


Ad Augustana per Sciencia

by Star_flaming



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, Academia, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emperor Hux, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Not Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Soft Kylux, The Knights of Ren make bad decisions as a collective, Wakes & Funerals, Worldbuilding, discussion of disordered eating and starvation, in an academic setting, it gets real soft you guys, we've got a ways to go first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 157,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6065395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_flaming/pseuds/Star_flaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux prided himself on being a man who managed to have interests outside of the military. His newest interest; history so old that many thought it useless in the modern age. And he could have been quite content, reading articles and books on ancient cultures if it wasn't for Kylo Ren, who seemed to have made it his goal to inject himself into Hux's academic pursuits when he wasn't destroying the ship through his apparent self-destructive tendencies.</p>
<p>Or: Academia brings two idiots together and builds a new regime</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *slides into a new fandom with a convoluted fic about academia and galactic domination* Fair warning, the only things I know about Star Wars comes from the movies/what I've learned through fanfiction.
> 
> There is discussion of disordered eating and starvation but only in this first chapter and 90% in an academic setting based off the Minnesota Starvation Experiment of 1944-45, things get better from here on out I promise.

An Empire has two options. It can keep expanding, or it can maintain its borders. An expanding Empire, Hux knew, eventually starved itself, and simply must keep expanding so that its soldiers and forces had something to _do_ , so that bored mercenaries didn’t tear the whole thing apart. But it also spread the forces thin, and made it too easy to conquer in return. A stable Empire that took its land and kept it, that was hard to shake.

He had learned that from one of his academic fancies towards the “soft” subjects no one had that much access to in the Academy. There, it was more of a concern to make a good soldier rather than a well-rounded person. He had come across papers and articles in scholarly journals that spoke to ancient, ancient empires that had only ever been on one planet. He had read them with a thought that these empires were the precursors to what had become Delegates and Senators and Kings and Queens of different planets, and when he had made contact with one of the academics who wrote the piece had been swiftly put in his place of not understanding that this was an empire that barely reached across a single peninsula.

The mightiest empires were so tiny they were given to a single governor or prefect nowadays. And what a shock that had been to a man who had been raised knowing of galactic systems of government. He had found the most ancient of studies by accident, and was yet too interested in them to let it go. Instead, Hux had perused ancient texts, fragments in forgotten languages studied seemingly only by old academics whose backs were permanently hunched over their work. But they were happy enough to explain everything about those texts, to describe the ancient disputes of planets that had many warring countries, far before they accepted one leader.

On Yvinia, there had been a mighty empire that spread too far and broke apart, collapsing slowly over the centuries as more powerful countries plundered its lands. They had tried to make up for it, crowning multiple emperors to rule over separate sections, but it didn’t do anything. If anything, four emperors vying for power made everything worse, and the common people suffered. When the Empire crumbled, the people flocked to warlords who could promise security, and they had warred for the next thousand years before planetary unity was achieved.

The woman who was telling him about the last single emperor wasn’t human, and the First Order did not allow non-humans into their military, so perhaps it was forgiven that he could not name her species immediately. But she was old, her voice as thin as the paper she dealt with, and Hux had to listen very intently to hear her. She was brilliant though, as her position as head of the ancient studies department of Landan University. Dr. Riil was very well respected in Yvinia, so it had been to her that Hux had gone.

“Really he should be called the King of Kings,” she was saying, on one of her long winded segues, but he had long gotten used to those. “Interesting story about the birth of that title, it’s half a legend but recently we found a statue with an inscription of King of Kings Flavinam that said…oh what was it, something about how he defeating the Seescian people…oh but we were talking about King of Kings Kwestian. Yes. Yes, Kwestian came to power when they had already been weakened. The economy was failing, we know that by his attempts to restart it, and there were nomad tribes at the edge of the empire, all trying to take over the provincial towns. And the state religion was losing followers too, it was awful.”

“The state religion?” he asked politely.

“Oh everyone was being seduced away by cults. The state religion worshipped a sun god, and the King of Kings always had himself depicted as a sun god in official portraiture, a form of propaganda. _But_ sometimes it meant that the people thought of the King of Kings _as_ a sun god. So, whenever one died, it always led to problems of conversions but under Kwestian is was especially bad.”

“Why not bother simply saying you were as strong as the god? Why bother putting yourself in portraiture as one?”

The old woman sighed, but it was the sigh of someone who had answered the question a thousand times and said, “All you interstellar travelling military types. You get so concerned over a broken hyperdrive and holoprojectors you forget planets didn’t always have instantaneous communication even just among themselves, let alone between whole star systems. There were thousands of people who didn’t know what the King of Kings looked like, until the portraits came. It took two months to travel from one end of the empire to the other, and that was without stopping. They didn’t have flight yet, child! _Or_ moveable type!”

He was beginning to realize that was the wrong question to have asked, for he had set her off, rambling about how people were losing track of the history of their own planet beyond systems and republics and galactic empires and orders and what not.

But if he had learned anything, it was patience, and he actually learned quite a lot from that long ramble. And by the end of it, he was given no less than six datachips all filled with articles and papers written by historians from political to artistic topics, and a warm invitation to return next time he had shore leave anywhere near Yvinia.

The J’lean Empire was an empire that had spread too far, and as Hux spent his very little free time reading about the dozens of Kings of Kings and how each had his own goals and his own designs. The articles referred to things he didn’t understand, especially the ones written by art historians, but that was no matter. As it was, he was scoffing at those who thought themselves great and above all others and raised his brow at those who damned the memories of their enemies (considering how even thousands of years later those damned were still remembered perfectly well, was it any surprise for him to raise his brow?). But still he was impressed. Once he managed to train his mind to think of one planet as the extent of someone’s world (and he rolled his own eyes internally at that turn of phrase), the reach the J’leans managed before they began to collapse was impressive.

But he couldn’t quite imagine how an Empire comprised of at least seventy different languages could function. That would be his next thread of inquiry, when it came to the J’leans. Though he had other planets and other empires there to study as well.

On Ni’k there had been a stable empire that had maintained its borders. This one had lasted a thousand years within the same dynasty, and in that time it had flourished. They had no wars to fight, and so they had turned to science, to art, to philosophy, and had created beautiful things the rest of the planet desperately wanted. But they were also strong. So strong that when an enemy tried to take them over, they dispatched the force but a single messenger to warn against any further attempts. They had been so strong that Ni’k had even had two governing forces for a while, this empire against the planetary council.

“Emperor T’um was the last emperor of the Eda Dynasty,” Professor Mabun had said, showing him an ancient _painting_ (not that there was anything inherently wrong with paintings. It was an honored art, and the aesthetic of them appealed to Hux, not that he’d let anyone know) of the Emperor. “His contemporaries said he did not have the disposition to lead, but there were no other heirs. T’um tried to keep his empire separate from the planetary council, and implemented supposedly dozens of reforms. We have no record of them but that they existed. It did no good, though, and when he died his daughter did not inherit an empire but a seat on the council.”

Professor Mabun was humanoid, but his eyes were beetle black and the lack of pupil and iris would have been unsettling if Hux wasn’t used to dealing with people in masks. It was the hands, with just one extra joint, that truly disturbed him the most, but he was professional and refused to shudder even when they had shaken hands. But despite his base instincts regarding the man’s appearance, Hux respected the Professor, had even read the textbook that he had helped write (even if he did think it was too expensive) about the Eda Dynasty. It had been very basic, meant for those just beginning to learn about the history, but that was exactly what Hux was. He’d not delude himself into thinking he was some genius, not when it came to these subjects.

“The Eda Dynasty was not the first dynasty,” said Hux, not framing it as the question it was. But Professor Mabun shook his head and answered all the same,

“The Eda Dynasty took over from the Wara Dynasty, which took over from the Rom Dynasty, which in turn took over from the Min Dynasty. It goes further back, but records get sketchier the further you go. The Eda Dynasty was the _last_ , and for that reason we know so much about it, thanks to the planetary council.”

Professor Mabun didn’t go on longwinded segues like Dr. Riil did, you had to ask questions to get more out of him, but he was smart and forgiving of stupid questions that even Hux wanted to hit himself about. He knew what he was talking about, and was forgiving of Hux’s previous misconception about how these empires related to how the entire planet was unified.

They only parted when Professor Mabun had to go attend a staff meeting, and yet just like with Dr. Riil, Hux left with plenty of readings on the Eda Dynasty, and even a few on the Wara. He had finished everything he had been given about the J’leans, and reading about the Edans certainly sounded interesting.

And it was, for the Edans had quite the tradition of courtly poetry that required a massive guide to what each pun and reference was to, and apparently half of them had been lost in translation to Standard. Along with that, Professor Mabun had given him ancient records of a day of public court, when the Emperor Ten had heard the complaints of his people. They had been marked down with such precision down to the minute, and Hux settled into these far more easily than the poetry.

_Sixth day of the Seventeenth Month of the Twenty Third year of the Reign of  His Imperial Majesty The Great Magistrate Emperor Ten of the House of Eda, Attended by Court and Her Imperial Majesty Empress N’ar Yves_

_-10 the doors are opened_

_-5 the people are amassed_

_-3 the people are sorted according to class, station, and complaint_

_-2 the people are admitted_

_-1 the people are bowing_

_0 His Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty arrive to take their thrones, Attended by Court_

_1 The Great Magistrate makes his welcome_

_3 the first complaint is heard, as follows:_

_“My neighbor stole fruit from me tree as it overhangs the border between our properties. She says the fruit is hers because it was on her side, but the roots are on mine. No minor magistrate has solved our problem, and all have sent us higher in rank of court until we have been sent here. Please, imperial highness, share your wisdom so that there may be peace in your land.”_

_5 The Great Magistrate makes, in infinite wisdom, the first judgment as follows:_

_“You and your neighbor shall harvest together when the tree next bears fruit. You shall split this bounty between you both and you shall prepare for one another a dish of this fruit. After you dine together in harmony, you shall cut down this tree of dispute, so that you may be rid of what has destroyed your peace. Plant a new tree from the seeds of the fruit, if you must, but rid yourself of what has disturbed your peace.”_

_Praise to the Wisdom of the Emperor, our Great Magistrate, for in his wisdom, he has made peace in his land!_

On and on it went, detailing to the tiniest degree the wisdom of this Emperor, and Hux was impressed. The pause after every judgment to praise the Emperor for his wisdom in making peace got a bit tiring, as did every complaint that ended in that same supplication for the Emperor to share his wisdom, but this detailed account was just as familiar as reading any report on his datapad, ignoring the difference in tone and knowing that this had been penned so carefully on paper made from animal skin. Not recorded by a protocol droid or typed by an officer.

And part of him was sad when he sent a message to Professor Mabun asking if there were any more court records only to receive a response that this court process of Emperor Ten was one of the few surviving records of such a thing. There were four in total, two of them under Emperor Ten, one under Empress Ungen, and one under the regency of Dowager Emperor Consort Qui for his infant son Yuna. Still, Professor Mabun sent them to him, and it became something of a pleasure of Hux’s to spend his moments of free time with a glass of ice wine and these records.

_Praise to the Wisdom of the Empress, our Great Magistrate and Mother, for in her great wisdom, she has spread peace across her lands!_

_Praise to the Wisdom of the Dowager, for he has learned well the ways of peace from his late and much mourned wife! May he pass this Wisdom to his son, so that peace will be spread for all the people of our land!_

He certainly couldn’t claim to know the Eda Dynasty at all as well as Professor Mabun or even one of his students, but Hux had looked against the list of hundreds of monarchs of the Dynasty, finding where Ungen and Yuna lay in the line of succession compared to Ten. The difference in wording meant _something,_ but he was missing the context and certainly didn’t have enough time to figure it out, not with Lord Kylo Ren of the famed Knights of Ren coming aboard his ship.

Hux was honored that the Master of such an elite and intimidating order was coming to his ship, that Supreme Leader Snoke had sent his own apprentice to Hux’s ship, but it meant he would not have nearly as much time for his off-duty studies.

* * *

Lord Kylo Ren was a disorderly _disaster_ and Hux was going to go mad from having him around, he could just _tell._ Destruction followed in his wake, and there seemed no rhyme or reason to it. Something he would take in stride and simply nod and accept, but other things sent him into a destructive rage that destroyed everything around him without care as to what it was he was destroying and if anyone was injured around him. And occasionally those rages started with _absolutely nothing_ setting them off.

Hux hated him.

Order had to be maintained above all else; order in one’s self, order in one’s command, order in one’s acceptance of command, order in one’s interactions, order in all things. That had been drilled into everyone aboard the _Finalizer_ be it from conditioning as a Stormtrooper or from years of training at the Academy. Hux had learned it from the cradle, and so he forgave those officers who were not born from military families if they did not manage to keep perfectly with the creed of order, but with Kylo Ren, the man should know better! He trained under the hand of the Supreme Leader himself! The man should at least have order in _himself!_

At least Ren didn’t seem to like him either, and tended to shut off his unstable lightsaber when Hux came to dress him down, if only to stalk away in a rush of dark clothing and despite the mask just giving off the bone deep impression that he was rolling his eyes at whatever Hux had to say. But at least it stopped destruction, and if the equipment was especially necessary it could make it easier to fix that much faster.

So, when he got the urgent call from communications that Ren was destroying one of their main hub machines, he got to his feet, set down his datapad with the article written by one of Dr. Riil’s friends about the shift of artistic style towards valuing the soul over the body and how imperial portraits suffered for it under King of Kings Hanidar, and went to try and spare the _Finalizer_ from going completely off the grid. That certainly wouldn’t do.

“Ren!” he snapped when he got there, technicians waiting a fair ways down the hallway to try and patch up what they could. “Ren, do you _want_ to make it impossible for us to send any messages to anyone _whatsoever?_ ”

The knight spun around at that, and Hux would have winced to see the depth of damage had he been anyone else. But neither man said anything a long while, while the lightsaber stayed on. And then finally, the voice modulator not quite flattening the tone, Ren said, “You’ve been dreaming of empires.”

“What? Ren, I don’t think you understand, that device you were just hacking away at was what allows us to hail other crafts and–”

“Those are treasonous thoughts, imagining an empire like that.”

Hux fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I was called up here to deal with your… _tantrum_ from where I was reading a scholarly article about the J’lean Empire of Yvinia which was sent to me by Dr. Evgeni Riil of Landan University on Yvinia. They’re a fascinating culture and if you could manage not to destroy an invaluable piece of equipment for five minutes so I could finish reading that article, I would be very grateful.”

Ren cocked his head, and only then did he turn off his lightsaber. “Tell me about them.”

“I am not going to bow to your demands, not after you may have cut us off from the fleet that _we are the flagship of_ and– _Ren!_ ” but the knight was walking past him. Not storming as he had in previous confrontations, but simply striding along as if nothing were wrong, as if he were not leaving a sparking mess behind him. Hux allowed himself a single moment to let out a sharp breath and pinch the bridge of his nose as though it could keep the headache away, before leaving the room and finding the technicians. “Go on, you might be able to patch it up enough for us to send a message that we may yet be offline.”

Such a message was sent to every pertinent recipient, the messages refusing to send half the time as technicians worked tirelessly at patching up what they could to send them before shutting it down to fully fix it, formally saying that _the Finalizer’s outgoing communication hub is not working at full power and any transmissions may not be sent in full or not sent at all but is expected to be fixed within two Standard days_ and informally saying _Kylo Ren is at it again, we’re doing the best we can._

By the time they received confirmation from all recipients that they would await confirmation of the _Finalizer_ ’s communications to be fixed, Hux’s shift had begun and ended and he wanted nothing more than a glass of brandy and to sleep off the headache that Kylo Ren always seemed to create. He wasn’t even prone to headaches before the man had come aboard and that was yet another strike against him.

But when he returned to his suite what he found was Kylo Ren, sitting and reading off his datapad.

Hux prided himself on being a professional, on being an _adult_ , but to see someone else reading off his personal datapad was enough to send a flare of anger through him, and it was only worse that it was _Kylo Ren._ “What are you doing?” he hissed, anger like ice coursing through him.

“I’m reading about the J’leans. Interesting, but I don’t see why they should capture your interest,” said Ren so casually. “They’re absolutely ancient, nothing about them is pertinent to us.”

“Us,” he repeated, stalking forward. “Us? Since _when_ have you been anything near _allied_ with _anyone_ on this ship? There is no ‘ _us._ ’ In case you missed it, everyone on this ship is terrified of you, you destroyed our outgoing communications, _all_ of them, and I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but everyone in the _fleet_ has adopted an idea of ‘us vs. them’ when it comes to you and your _damn_ knights. You’re obsessed with a man who died with the Old Empire and all you knights fight with weapons so outdated you’d be laughed at if you didn’t walk around choking people every chance you get!” He hadn’t gotten so furious once in the year that Ren had been onboard, but there was a first time for anything. And a last time, as well. He had a sneaking suspicion that they’d find his corpse here rotting by texts of a culture just as dead as he, Ren flippantly making some excuse as to why he had killed the ship’s commanding officer.

But instead, he simply sat down the datapad and said, “You don’t like it when people touch your things.”

“How is that what you got out of what I just said?”

“Your thoughts are very loud, General. You want to get me angry so I’ll leave. You want me to leave you and your things alone. So I will leave. But someday, do tell me what about the J’leans caught your interest. I really do want to know.” And with that, he left, just as if he had never been there in the first place, and if Hux were any less professional than he was, he would throw something to vent his helpless anger.

As it was, he simply took a pillow and screamed into it before calming himself down with reviewing the most recent reports that he had received before all communications were disabled while the hub was repaired. If there was anything wrong on the ship until those were working everything would go sideways and nothing could save them then. But, he supposed, that’s why Stormtroopers were trained to be such fast runners, they could be efficient enough messengers when they were called upon to be one.

* * *

Kylo Ren had decided their dynamic was going to change, without Hux’s permission. It wasn’t much of a difference, most people didn’t notice any difference, but Hux _did_ and he was frustrated beyond words about it. They were entirely out of touch with their fleet because someone said that those first patchwork jobs had managed to put too much stress on some system or another and the fix was bigger than expected. And with the slow manual delivery of datachips with reports, Hux found himself with more time he _could_ have been doing something productive in but unable to because of _Kylo Ren._

The man was suddenly spending just that much more time nearby Hux and it was infuriating. It was stealing his calm and Hux found himself reading the court records of Emperor Ten over and over again, the repetitive language and the simpler problems than he had to deal with calming.

_79 The twenty third complaint is heard as follows:_

_“I am but a minor magistrate, but we have found that false witness was borne against a citizen in our courts of law. Reconciliation has long been made yet the law requires retaliation for such an act. I have no desire to stir up discord among my people where peace has reigned, and I appeal to you, as our Great Magistrate. Please imperial majesty, share your wisdom so that there may be peace in your land!”_

_85 The Great Magistrate, in his wisdom, makes judgment as follows:_

_“A false witness must be cast off the Tarpein Rock into the riptides of the ocean, so have our ancestors decreed apt punishment, to leave to the elements their own tribunal and court. But if reconciliation has been made, then to do so will appease no one, and bereave those who may lose a friend to the ocean. Therefore, the wrongdoer shall not be thrown from the Tarpein Rock but from the Mundan Rock, into a mellower patch of waves. We shall honor our ancestors and their judgment, and we shall maintain peace as it has been made.”_

_Praise to the Wisdom of the Emperor, our Great Magistrate, for in his wisdom, he has made peace in his land!_

Really, Hux wished the problems he had to solve were so simple. But wishing achieved nothing without action behind it, and since there was no way for him to become an Emperor in the Eda Dynasty, he resigned himself to dealing with an increasingly unbearable Lord Ren and constant messengers knocking at his door to deliver datachips.

Incoming transmissions still worked, though, and while he was happy enough to receive a message from Dr. Riil (he was quite fond of their correspondence), the increasingly worried messages from all other corners of the First Order was far from good. They had no way to respond, not until the fix was done, but no one seemed that calm when they had been promised a mere two days.

“What is the nearest First Order planet?” asked Hux on the bridge, pacing as he read hail after desperate hail from the rest of the fleet and from the collection of Generals that made up the governing body of the First Order under the Supreme Leader. They would be given up for dead soon, unless the found a way to assure the Order of their survival. Something more trustworthy than Ren’s mysticism.

As soon as High Command was assured that they were alive and well and simply unable to make any contact, he was going to _throttle_ Ren, no matter if he were Snoke’s favorite Knight and apprentice.

“It would require us to double back,” replied the colonel tapping furiously at her station. “But we can reach Ni’k within three Standard days if we hurry. It would make us late for reaching the Pentoo System outpost, though.”

“Better late than given up for dead,” decided Hux shortly. He would have to go onto the planet to send any communications, and if he played his cards right, he might even have time to visit Professor Mabun. “Set a course to Ni’k, as fast as possible.”

“Yes, General.”

It wasn’t as if the Pentoo System was even all that important. It was a backwater system that despite professed loyalty to the First Order had started to hum with mutterings against the Order. The simple presence of the flagship of the Order ought keep them in line. Pentoo IV had been the runner up in options for Starkiller base, still under construction and sending Hux continuous updates on progress (slow but promising, and right on schedule), but the discovery of a subterranean ocean had taken it out of consideration and the thought was that the system was angered that they had been so snubbed in offering one of their own planets.

It _was_ a sacrifice for any system to make, and Hux appreciated that. To remove one planet would change the balance of gravity for any outer system planets, and to offer one up wasn’t to be taken lightly. A year’s worth of work had gone into seeing what removing Pentoo IV would do to the system and they had discovered that despite the fact that every other planet would shift, it wouldn’t tidally lock any of them nor send them out of livable distance to their sun.

So perhaps this dissent was to be expected.

* * *

Turning around a ship the size of the _Finalizer_ wasn’t an act that could be ignored, as it required nearly every division on board to manage the feat. Engineers had to work on the engines, navigators had to make certain that they turned only to their new coordinates, on and on to where despite that there was no feeling in the ship turning it was impossible to miss.

“You’ve turned the ship around,” said Ren unnecessarily when he appeared yet again at Hux’s door.

“Yes good evening, Ren, a pleasure to see you too,” said Hux dryly, but waved him into the sitting room that made the front room of his suite, knowing an argument was coming and not wanting to have it in the middle of the hallway.

“Why have you turned it around? You need to be in the Pentoo System soon, and I have business on–”

“Ren I don’t _care_ about your business, whatever it is or wherever you’re having it. If we don’t manage to get outward communications working again and _soon_ , we are going to be given up for dead. We have to return to Ni’k because we need to get onto the planet and make contact because _you_ destroyed our outgoing communications hub.”

“If your technicians didn’t put stress on the system in those patches, this problem wouldn’t be happening.”

If Hux were as petty as Ren, he would throw something at the man. “The problem is not the technicians! The problem is that _you broke it!_ ”

Silence lasted a long time, and Hux began to wonder if he had finally gotten through to Ren. But the silence went on for too long, and was broken when Ren suddenly gave a full bodied start and said, “I need a cruiser.” Hux didn’t even know how to respond to that. “I know you don’t believe in the Force or Force bonds for that matter, but I’ve just had word from one of my Knights about a pressing issue and I need to be there.”

“And where is ‘there?’” asked Hux coldly, but he didn’t actually care that much.

“Not for you to know. It’s the mysticism you so despise. I should think you would be grateful to be rid of me.”

“Oh I am. Go then, take a cruiser, get off the ship and avoid answering to your mistakes, be my guest.”

“When you finally get back to the Pentoo System I will meet you there.” And with that, Ren was gone, and Hux let out a long, slow, deliberate breath. Professor Mabun had warned him that what approximated as water on Ni’k caused nasty reactions in humans if fermented into alcohol, but he was tempted to buy it anyway and just drink until he completely forgot Ren even existed. It shouldn’t take more than half a bottle, really, if he was able to find anyone willing to sell him any.

It may have been Ren's absence that improved the work around the ship, giving some sort of ease, to the point where Ni’k was reached in just under three Standard days, and dawn was just breaking over the capital city of Ileen. A shuttle was dispatched to make planetfall with most of the senior command staff. With Ren long gone (and what a breath of relief had spread through the ship at that), there was no danger in leaving a Lieutenant Colonel in charge, and Hux was the first off the transport.

And so began the nightmare of contacting everyone who had panicked and asked after them, assuring everyone of survival and calling off what might have been a truly touching memoriam ceremony honoring the brave souls who had been swallowed up by the dark emptiness of space. A few of his officers might have even appreciated the posthumous promotions, if they were allowed to keep them once they miraculously came back to life. Nowhere for Hux to go though, promotion wise, so everyone else would have to do with their same stations.

High Command kept their stony faces in the holocall, but there had been an expression of something near relief that their flagship and best General hadn’t been lost. Hux was well liked and respected, in the Order and it’s planets as the youngest General in living memory (the Clone Wars had younger generals, but they were only promoted out of desperation, not merit), and to see him die would have been quite the blow. He might have been a poster boy, were there not such a thing as models.

“Now that we’ve made planetfall here on Ni’k we fully expect to have all communications working at full capacity within the day,” said Hux smartly. “Following return to normal function we will continue on to the Pentoo System as originally planned.”

“Very good,” said General Delan, her voice clipped and professional. “Report when you have entered the Pentoo system.” Hux nodded, and the transmission was cut off, leaving him with a few hours of unplanned shore leave, or so a short message from General Delan told him. That must be her reward for not dying, he thought.

Still, Professor Mabun had told him that his door was always open, and why not go see him? Ileen’s Aman University was attached to the Aman Museum, and the joint building wasn’t too far away. Passing along the notice that all officers planetside had four hours of shore leave, Hux took a transport to the University.

He knew he cut an odd figure, in full uniform walking through the halls of the University, and he didn’t blame the students for staring after him even as he thought that such blatant staring would never have happened at the Academy. But these people were not cadets for a reason, and High Command (and supposedly Snoke, but the Supreme Leader didn’t much talk to the Order’s citizens) prided itself that despite being a military state held together in the desperation of a vacuum of power left by an empire, they could still be civilized, and no matter the huge number of children sent to military school, there were still those who were interested in softer arts.

Besides, he thought, knocking on the door neatly labelled to be Professor Mabun’s office, he was here for the same reasons they were, anyway.

“General!” greeted Professor Mabun when he opened the door, beetle black eyes growing larger to see him. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon!”

“It’s a bit of a long story, but I have a few hours shore leave and I was wondering if you had time to talk,” said Hux smoothly.

“Of course, I’ve a staff meeting for the museum side of things in a few hours, and I’ve only just closed up my office hours for my students. Come, sit down, I’m very interested to see what you thought of the documents I sent you.”

Hux _liked_ Professor Mabun, the man was incredibly intelligent and wasn’t cowed before a General. If anything, he treated Hux like he would any other student of his, and Hux respected that. They talked about the ancient court proceedings and a bit about the poetry, before Hux finally said, “Professor, every society you’ve mentioned has crumbled and fallen. The Eda Dynasty, the planetary council fell to the Chancellor of Ni’k even.”

“Such is the danger of time,” said Professor Mabun wisely, nodding his head, those beetle black eyes not leaving Hux’s face. “There was a philosopher, around the time of the fall of the Eda Dynasty. He wrote quite a stirring poem about the concept. I won’t bore you with it, but is most often quoted ‘Time, glutinous in all things, you destroy everything by your teeth, a slow rotting death.’”

“Very optimistic,” said Hux dryly, rewarded by Professor Mabun’s snorting laugh.

“If you are here to ask how the First Order may survive forever, I’m afraid I cannot help you. I deal with the past, General, the ancient times no one else deigns remember, I cannot tell the future.”

“I am not asking for the First Order,” he said, and was entirely honest in that. “I am asking what contributed to the fall of those systems of government. The Eda Dynasty was so powerful, why should it have fallen so suddenly under Emperor T’um?”

“It wasn’t a sudden fall, General. The final blow was simply dealt under Emperor T’um.” And so he began to speak, talking about how the Eda Dynasty fell under the belief that they were so mighty nothing could touch them. How their imperial family became more corrupt within itself, how their government of scholar-nobles became too great with people passing civil service exams each year and filling the bureaucracy to overflowing. How the imperial family got to be too inbred, with precious few people on the planet who were of status to marry an Imperial Prince or Princess and who were not seated on the planetary council. T’um suffered from the genetics of too many married cousins, it seemed.

“Such in the danger of an imperial regime,” said Professor Mabun. “The former Galactic Empire, if you will forgive me saying this, would have collapsed anyway, with or without the New Republic’s Rebel Alliance.”

“I see no shame in a historian speaking of history. But I understand what you mean. When Emperor Palpatine died, who would have inherited? He had no set heir, unless he meant to pass the imperial title to Darth Vader.”

“Ah, but Darth Vader was a military man, and Palpatine took power directly from the Old Republic in an accepted shift of power. Darth Vader never had a seat on the old Senate and he never concerned himself with imperial politics either.”

“The people would have seen it as a military coup. The Empire would grow weak and unstable, even if Darth Vader’s son had joined them. If they didn’t rise up against Vader, they would have risen up against Skywalker, whether or not there was an attack from the Alliance. The Empire would crumble to chaos no matter what. And if they tried to frighten people into obedience with the Death Star they would have run out of planets they had any hold over.”

“Exactly. If you start killing people to make an example of them, you end up ordering your last soldier to slit his own throat to be an example to himself. You’ve learned your history well. Shame you went into the military, we could have used a Professor Hux at our university.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t have much choice in my profession.”

Professor Mabun sighed. “Such is the danger when military fathers want their sons to follow in their footsteps. There is too much _pride_ in the military, too many men thinking themselves great when they ought to leave it to their peers to decide.”

“Empress Valinor said something along those lines.”

“So you’ve been reading!” there was pleased appreciation in Professor Mabun’s regard, and Hux smiled back, sipping at the orange liquid that passed for an approximation of water on the planet. Inside, he was considering Starkiller, and part of him quaked to reconcile his ultimate weapon with the fate Professor Mabun had drawn out in front of him.

Still, his visit with the Professor was enjoyable, until the man had to prepare for the museum’s staff meeting and Hux himself had to get back to the _Finalizer._ And if he terrified some poor student as he walked through one of the common areas where the boy was reading some magazine rather than working on coursework, then that was his contribution to the university.

* * *

The Pentoo System came into view of the bridge five days later, the dissenting back corner system due for a good while of having the flagship of the navy paying a visit. But the relief didn’t come from seeing their assignment or from having the approval of High Command to simply weave around the planets, it came from having a week of smooth work without their troublesome Knight of Ren aboard.

Hux was actually getting sleep and had time to read what Professor Mabun had given him about the fall of the Eda Dynasty and the last desperate reforms (The T’um Restoration, as it was called in the academic journals. Quite a misnomer, really, since it had failed to last beyond his death), as well as send a response to Dr. Riil inquiring as to a detail mentioned offhand in multiple J’lean texts, a phrase repeated at the end of plenty speeches and carved into a few monuments.

And then on the bridge one day, he heard it. “Sir, Upsilon Class shuttle is approaching. Kylo Ren is aboard, as well as a being he has not mentioned but our scanners are picking up.” The whole bridge went tense at that, and Hux could already feel one of those headaches coming back.

“Allow landing, Lieutenant, I will welcome Lord Ren back aboard. Major, you have the bridge.”

“Yes sir.”

He should have known there would be no escaping the man, but Hux had hoped that he might have a few more days of peace. But, wishing served no purpose, and when he reached the landing bay, a message had been sent through the ranks that all those of appropriate rank not on duty were to come welcome Kylo Ren back. No one wanted to, really, but he _was_ Snoke’s apprentice and they had to give him his due, lest it get back to the Supreme Leader.

The door to the shuttle opened and from it came Ren with his usual loping stomp of a gait, and behind him came another figure, swathed in the same robes and with its own helmet. This one walked with an odd lightness of foot, but was no less intimidating. In its hand was a long staff, and it handled it so easily. A collective breath was drawn to see it. Another Knight of Ren was aboard the _Finalizer._

“Kylo Ren, welcome back,” said Hux, tone clipped. He didn’t want Ren back and would let him know that.

“Thank you General,” he intoned.

“Your business was well sorted, I hope?”

“Indeed it was. This is Khee Ren, she was the one who called for my aid.”

“A pleasure to meet you, General, the Knights of Ren have heard much about our master’s co-commander.” Her voice was just as modulated as her master’s, and Hux wondered, slightly, if such helmets were necessary for every Knight of Ren and if so who had made that mandatory, Kylo or Snoke?

“How long will you be staying with us…Lady Ren?” asked Hux. That was the question that kept those assembled in suspense, breath held. Khee Ren, for her part, merely nodded swiftly at the title, accepting its use before saying,

“Not long at all. A few days at most.”

“Then welcome aboard the Finalizer, Lady Ren.”

“Are there rooms where I can stay, General?”

“I will look into it.”

“In the meantime, you will come with me, Khee,” said Kylo. She nodded, and the two swept off together. Hux turned to the hastily assembled group of officers and saw beneath their professional facades no small amount of fear. Kylo Ren was a force of destruction and disorder unto himself, and they had never dealt with any other Knight. Khee Ren may yet be just as dangerous and no one knew how to handle her.

“About your duties,” he merely said, just as resigned to double the destruction brought about by Khee Ren right beside Kylo. To make matters worse, with both of them here, he might actually have to call Kylo by his _name_.

* * *

A few days, when said by the only other Knight of Ren he knew, meant something closer to a week. And that seemed to be _worse_ in Khee Ren, despite it all. The Lord and Lady Ren were almost always together, murmuring to each other as they stood at viewports, staring into the darkness, the modulators in their helmets making it hard to understand over static.

There was not a free set of rooms, and so Lady Ren simply said, “I’ll live with my master then.”

Having the two Knights confined to the same rooms actually eased people, knowing that they simply had to take care around that suite rather than fearing two opposite ends of the ship. Lady Ren also didn’t actively aggravate any officers, merely let them go about their work and watched from a distance. But her presence on the bridge certainly didn’t ease them at all. Lord Ren at least made noise, talked and questioned authority and so on, but the Lady kept silent and just stared at them all. She’d stand there for two shifts straight, just watching, and Hux was beginning to dislike her just as much as her master.

The only way she was better than her master (and this was debatable) was that instead of taking her weapon (and it was frightening, a long staff crackling with electricity when she powered it up) and destroying things in her rage, Lady Ren would just scream. It always started quietly, little pops of sound, like a distressed puppy calling for its mother. After that it went to noises like she was warming up her voice, and that was all the warning anyone got because moments later she would start screaming, starting unbearably high and somehow pitching even _higher,_ the modulator in her helmet transforming it into a hellish soundscape that only her master could stop. He always arrived soon after the screaming began, and took her arm, pulling her out of the room to calm her down. However he managed, no one knew. For that matter, no one knew what set her off.

But it was rare enough that she should get to screaming, what with Lord Ren almost always at her side. Soon as the Lady started making those little pops, her Lord brought her away. Hux felt a sort of relief that Lord Ren finally had to deal with someone doing exactly what he always did, but the petty revenge was grudgingly colored with respect that _someone_ could make that screaming stop.

Except Lady Ren had been watching the navigation officers working to make certain that in a pass by Pentoo III they could enter orbit smoothly one day when she had begun to scream, and the screen had actually blown up as if a hammer had struck it, and the officer had to go to medbay to get the shard of glass removed from his forehead. That, Hux would never stand for. Even Lord Ren had learned that to actually hurt any of Hux’s officers was never tolerated, and though he still did it, he received a very long lecture from Hux that managed to protect his officers for quite a long while afterwards.

Knight of Ren be damned, Khee Ren had injured one of his officers and if the master got a tongue lashing about it, then the disciple would get one too.

So Hux stormed to the rooms the Knights shared at the end of his shift (because unlike two others he could name, he was _professional_ , and didn’t abandon his post), ready to give the Lady Ren a lecture she’d not soon forget. Lord Ren knew what to expect, Hux would storm in, overriding his passcode and proceed to lecture him with all the passion he could. He would not tolerate a Knight of Ren to go around killing or hurting officers who had been doing perfectly well at their jobs just because someone threw a tantrum.

And yet, when Hux did just that, the Knight was standing in front of the door, barring entry. “Ren, I am in no mood to deal with you. Your Knight injured one of my officers, I won’t stand for it,” snapped Hux. But he didn’t try and muscle past the man, merely stared him down.

“I know full well your opinions on the Force, General,” said Ren, the modulator masking most of the tone of his speech though he sounded somewhat patient, of all things. “But Khee is facing her Trial of Meditation and it makes her vulnerable to Force visions. She’s always been prone to them, and something about orbiting Pentoo Three on this ship sent her one. And with this Trial, she is not in full control.”

“She injured an officer!”

“I’ve done far worse in my time on board.”

“Yes, and that itself is a problem. I am not foolish enough to try and _hurt_ your Knight, Ren, I merely want to inform her that I will not tolerate abuse to my officers because you two are throwing tantrums.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Hux.”

“Let me speak to her.”

“She’s sleeping.”

“Then I will _wait._ ” There was a thread of protectiveness in Ren’s voice, Hux realized, he had heard it in Phasma’s voice whenever anyone insulted her ‘troopers. But still, he moved aside to allow Hux entry into the sparse front room. They had faced off here before, snapping back and forth when Hux gave him a tongue lashing and the Knight fought back. And despite that Lady Ren resided there too now, there was very little different. Her helmet sat on a table and a cloak was lying beside it, but nothing else was changed.

And it was these things that Ren gathered before going to the bedroom, closing the door behind him in a way that dared Hux to try and invade that space. Not that Hux had _any_ desire to see Ren’s sleeping quarters. Instead, he sat in the single chair, staring down the door and waiting for Lady Ren to emerge.

It wasn’t as if he _didn’t_ believe in the Force. He had seen Ren use it to interrogate prisoners, to shove people out of his way, to choke them just enough to fear him, had snapped the neck of a ‘Trooper Phasma had said was beyond the aid of reeducation from clean across the ship once. But it was the mystic side of things he didn’t quite hold with. Visions, bonds, communication across star systems using only one’s mind, those were stories for children. And that Lady Ren supposedly suffered visions enough to scream and destroy a screen and injure an officer made Hux plenty suspicious. It seemed like a feeble excuse that depended on the listener being humbled by the idea of a Force user, and Hux was anything but.

And then from the bedroom he heard short distressed noises, like the ones that led up to Khee’s screams and braced himself, only to hear actual words. It was Kylo’s voice, but without the modulator, he could recognize the general shape of it. And how strange it was. It was…oddly soft.

“You were sleeping, not meditating, I promise. I swear to you on anything you want, you weren’t meditating, only sleeping.” The only answer was a little wail, an awful precursor to the screams. Khee wasn’t wearing her helmet either, it seemed. “Look at me, look at me. You’re not addicted, alright? You’re not addicted. He’s not going to punish you or take it away because you’re not addicted. I know, I’ve seen it when someone is addicted, and you aren’t.”

“You promise?” asked Khee. Her voice was softer without the modulator making the very sound of it cruel. Neither of them were overly _soft_ people _,_ the murder on battlefields spoke to that, but to hear their own natural voices, it broke the façade of cruel scourge that Snoke wielded. They were people. Whatever was under those helmets aside, they were made frightfully human in that moment, and Hux began to wish he had never come.

“Of course. I promise. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Always.”

“Then trust me when I say you aren’t addicted. You’re strong, I saw you pass your Trial of Water, if you can resist becoming addicted to water, you can resist this.”

“…It’s hard.”

“I know, I know it is. I struggle with it too. But we can’t become addicted to meditation any more than we can anything else.”

“You must only struggle with meditation. If you’ve lived here so long, surely you aren’t even addicted to time and schedule!”

“It’s addiction to sleep and meditation I struggle most with. You’re stronger than me, Khee, you do better than I did with sleep.”

“Nova’s the best with addiction to sleep.”

“But she’s not as good as you are with addiction to food. You’ve conquered hunger and thirst, what’s the mind compared to a body that gets addicted too easily?”

“It’s just a matter of strength.”

“And you’ve plenty of that, I promise.” There was an awful knot in Hux’s stomach to hear this conversation, to hear them talking about something so horrible. To hear that awful… _pride_ in Kylo’s voice. He was _proud_ of Khee, proud of how she overcame the most horrifying of tasks, and counseled her in a Trial that he still struggled with. She had been near screaming for fear that someone would punish her for meditating, and he talked her down by assuring her of her strength in the face of _hunger_ and _thirst._

Hux felt sick, and he wanted to have never known such things about the training of the Knights of Ren. People _died_ for denying themselves food, and Kylo was _praising_ it? Still, he kept his face straight and professional as he heard Kylo say, “The General’s here. He’s going to lecture you about when you started screaming on the bridge. Part of the screen you cracked hit an officer, they had to go to medbay. Hux is very protective of his officers.”

“Can’t you wipe his memory of the event? I want to go practice with my staff.”

“No. Go face him, it’s not that bad, not like when Master’s angry.” A few moments later, the two knights emerged, fully masked, and Hux raised a brow at Khee.

“I hear you have a complaint for me?” asked Khee, tone flat and the modulator making her voice crueler than it was alone. It didn’t sound like she had been scared that sleeping might count as meditation not a few minutes previous.

“Lady Ren,” said Hux, rising from his seat, “your tantrum on the bridge today injured one of my navigations officers. Despite being one of the Supreme Leader’s lesser apprentices, you cannot go around injuring those around you simply because you cannot control yourself.” It was the same lecture he gave Kylo so often, and he could just feel from Khee that same aura of disinterest and disregard the longer he lectured her.

“A pretty speech, General. I assure you, I shall endeavor to spare your fragile officers in the future. If you will excuse me,” said Khee, taking her staff and sweeping out of the room. Her disregard, her _insult_ towards the loyal men and women who served the Order, it made Hux angry, and it was understandable to snap when Kylo said so simply,

“You’re angry.”

“Of _course_ I’m angry! Your Knight not only injured one of my officers, she insults them too!”

“Not about that. You’re angry about Khee’s dismissiveness, yes, but this is different.” Whatever Kylo wanted to find in his mind, Hux made certain to chastise him the whole time with his thoughts while the Knight brushed the edges of his mind. “You heard Khee and I talk.”

“I didn’t try to listen in.”

“I can tell that. You once held respect for the Knights of Ren. You’ve been known to actually praise us as a group for how well we do in battle. We have trained many years to become such, I hope that one of us wavering in one of the most difficult Trials will not destroy that respect.”

“Ren, you and your knights _starve_ yourselves! Most people call that an eating disorder. People _die_ from it!”

“The Supreme Leader has outlined our training, we have to avoid addiction to anything. We cannot become dependent.”

“To _sustenance?_ Kylo, it’s impossible to be addicted to water, you know that right? You cannot possibly become addicted to sleep, either.”

“You are as sensitive to the Force as this ship is, Hux. Don’t speak of what you don’t know.”

“Arkanis University did a study on starvation, Kylo,” said Hux sharply. They had learned of it in the Academy, he had written a massive paper on it. It had been jarring enough to read that it tended to stick with those who learned of it. “It was conducted on volunteers, to see what starvation did to someone. They were evaluated every day to avoid permanent damage, and the results were sound. Those results are what the nutrition amounts in ration bars are calculated on.”

“I don’t see what–”

“Starvation cannot serve your Knights, Kylo, I hope you know that. Khee and the others, all you’re doing is hurting them. Starvation takes away muscle mass and bone density, it causes depression, hysteria, and hypochondriasis, there is a decrease in comprehension, concentration, and general understanding–Kylo, one of those participants cut off three of his own fingers with an axe and when he was asked he couldn’t say if it was on purpose or not! Do you want Khee to cut off her own fingers?  It took _twenty weeks_ to recover from the starvation period, and that was with complete rest in a hospital setting. From what I’ve seen of you and what little I have of Khee, I doubt you took any time to recover from your trial of food. And you know women are more likely to fall prey to eating disorders, do you really want to be encouraging Khee?”

“Careful Hux,” said Kylo, but his voice was quiet, barely heard at all. “You’re questioning the Supreme Leader’s judgment of our training.”

“I’m questioning _your_ application of his judgment. The Knights of Ren are loyal to you, everyone knows this. They follow your example in all things, if what I’ve seen with Khee is to be believed. Kylo, if you praise self starvation, what is that going to tell those that follow you? You approve of denying yourself literally everything, you’re going to get yourself killed in some attempt to not get addicted to your own senses next!” Kylo went stiff at that, and Hux’s eyes widened. “No, you don’t mean to tell me that you think you can get addicted to sight?”

“The final stage of training. We reside with Snoke as he prevents us from using our smell, then our taste, then our touch, then our hearing, and then our sight. The Trial of Senses. We must prove that we are not addicted to anything, and we must prove that we trust him to take care of us while we are deprived.”

“For how long?”

“As long as it takes.”

“Kylo! Sensory deprivation for an extended amount of time is a form of _torture!_ It isn’t a way to prove your strength!”

“We are not as pitiful as you, Hux, we can use the Force to maintain contact with the world.”

“How do you know you can? You’ve never had your senses taken from you, how are you to know if you _can_ do that?”

“I trust my master!” snapped Kylo, fists clenching.

“When he tells you to deprive yourself of sleep, food, water, all forms of perception? Is that why you’ve destroyed so many things around my ship? Starvation made that one man chop off his fingers, is it making you destroy our outgoing communications to where High Command starts to think we’re _dead?_ ”

“They thought you dead?” the question was surprisingly soft, as if he didn’t know to what extent his damage had gone.

“We promised two days before outgoing communications would work and it took so long they were planning a day of mourning, Kylo. Answer my question, have you been starving yourself and is that why you destroy my ship?”

“No, I passed my Trial of Food long ago, I must only practice moderation in eating now. It’s only meditation I struggle with now, the same Trial Khee is undergoing. I already proved I’m not addicted to it, Khee is still proving that. Lack of meditation means the Force runs through us without regulation. The Force is more powerful than you can imagine, and sometimes it gets too much. When Khee is struck with it, she screams.”

“And you break things.”

“I release the energies building up in me. If your ship is victim, it’s only because I’ve nowhere else to direct them. Meditation is too easy to get addicted to, we must always be careful of how much we make use of it.”

“Surely you realize no part of that is healthy. At all. You’re going to run yourself into the ground or get yourself killed one of these days, you know that, don’t you, Kylo?”

“This is the first time you’ve ever said my name, not just my rank.”

That was true, and Hux immediately realized he didn’t want to know why that changed. “There are two of you now,” he said instead. “I can hardly call you _both_ Ren.”

“Khee isn’t here either. And you kept calling her by her name too.” A fair enough point. She had been Lady Ren to him, he hadn’t thought of her any other way, but now suddenly she was _Khee._ And Hux was almost afraid to think of why it might be the case. (He knew. It was because they had been made human for him. Had he not heard Khee’s distress and Kylo’s counsel, he could have gone without ever thinking of them as anything but Knights of Ren, not as people.)

“You’re a curious man, Hux,” said Kylo. “You’re the Order’s youngest General and you’re an exemplary military man, but you dream of empires so long dead that the only people who bother remembering them are academics who live on the very planet they were from. You hate me, but you’ve been known to praise the Knights on the battlefield and now you’ve counseled me to reject my master’s teachings so as to keep my Knights from fates you fear. What sort of man are you?”

“One who has had enough of you and your mysticism and your disregard for the wellbeing of yourself and those around you. I came to warn Kh-your Knight off of hurting my officers in the future, not this. Good day, Ren. At least think a little bit about what I’ve told you.”

Hux certainly did _not_ retreat, he simply…had better things to do with his time and refused to spend any more time than he had to with Kylo. With _Ren._ Thinking of him as Kylo was heading into territory he didn’t really want to visit, and anyway Dr. Riil had sent him a whole book about the oratory traditions of the J’leans, from public poetry and theater competitions to the treatise written on the education of children so that they would be well rounded (debate and poetry composition were the first two mentioned, apparently) and he would really rather read about a millennia dead senate’s endless debates and speeches than deal with either of the Knights of Ren.

* * *

If Kylo had decided their relationship was to change before, it was only worse now. It was a relief when Khee left, meeting with the Supreme Leader before demanding a cruiser to go off on some quest or mission of a sort. Honestly, Hux wondered, what did the Knights of Ren even _do?_

With Khee and her screams finally off the ship, there was a slight relaxation. Even Hux found himself with slightly less tension in his shoulders. But with Khee gone, that slack was taken up by Kylo, much to Hux’s dismay. At least now when he snapped at Kylo for slashing at the walls he knew _why_ the man did it, and lectured him endlessly about meditating so as to spare the ship.

And then one day, Kylo approached him as he was walking to a holomeeting with High Command and said simply, “Dr. Ancel didn’t think to replicate results, no scientific study is accepted unless the results can be replicated.”

“I am not having this discussion right now,” said Hux, not pausing in his stride. “Meet me at my quarters at the end of this shift, I need something to drink if I’m going to discuss the Arkanis Starvation Experiment with someone who thinks it possible to get addicted to food.” Soon as he said it, he regretted it, inviting Kylo into his own space. But too late now, he’d just have to deal with it. So long as Kylo didn’t think this was an open invitation, then it should be fine.

High Command wanted a report on the progress of Starkiller, and General Yhen was questioning, as usual, the ability of the base’s ability to actually keep personnel alive while the planet was travelling from one star to the next. “You may be able to use the force of orbit and the firing of the weapon to slingshot yourself to the next star, but the distance is too great,” General Yhen was saying. He had always pointed out the vast distance of space and refused to let anyone else forget it. Understandable, the man had nearly died in between star systems once when the hyperdrive broke and the alternative was to travel at normal speed for eighty two thousand years. It had taken a long time before they had been rescued, a third of personnel had died of thirst and more were faltering of hunger. He looked it too, old from staying planetside while everyone else managed to maintain their youth simply by virtue of hyperspeed travel.

“I assure you, General, Starkiller would not have been approved if the plan was not sound,” said Hux, as he had every single time Yhen had stirred up distrust of the base.

“A planet cannot enter hyperspeed as it would need to.”

“General, Starkiller is already orbiting QC-009,” said General Delan mildly. “If it could travel from the Vinch System to QC-009, then surely it could make its way to QC-008.”

General Yhen looked displeased by it, but said nothing, folding his lips and listening as Hux read out the most recent reports. The Oscillator was finished and with it the last of the mechanism, now only the command station, barracks, and other necessities for living were to be built. “The Oscillator is reinforced by six feet of steel,” said Hux. “This should withstand any friendly or foreign fire.”

“You’ve learned from the failure of the Death Star in these plans,” commented General Sen.

“We may build on the strength of our ancestors, but we aren’t to make the same mistakes as they did. Now that the mechanism is finished, we will begin building more permanent residency areas and command at once.”

“Very good. The forecast for completion?”

“Nine months. Less, if Hard Winter doesn’t impede progress.”

“Very good,” said General Delan. “Now, General Yhen, the civilians.”

“A few of the Knights of Ren have been traversing through more populated space,” said General Yhen, beginning his own presentation. “Seeing them helps banish doubt as to Supreme Leader’s involvement in our Order.” Hux listened, knowing it wasn’t his place to say anything at all, since Yhen was the member of High Command who was foremost in governance of the people as Hux was of the Navy and Starkiller base. But he itched to say what he knew through his acquaintanceships with Dr. Riil and Professor Mabun, to say that despite respect for the First Order, the people didn’t _want_ a military state. They wanted the old ways back, the stability of an Empire with a central figure who actually was visible to the populace, not a shadowy figure who barely spoke to even High Command, let alone the people.

“Speaking of the Knights of Ren, their leader was the one who knocked you off the grid so long, wasn’t he, General Hux?” asked General Sen, a corner of amusement in his face, far from visible but for those who knew how to read each other’s faces so well.

“Indeed he was,” said Hux shortly.

“He seems volatile beyond all else,” said General Xiu. “I must say I am impressed that you keep him in line as well as you do, General. Were he among my command I doubt I could do so well as you.” Xiu was blunt, and Hux respected that. He didn’t dig at someone else and didn’t hide his meanings, if he was impressed he simply said so. And where he would look for treachery or insult in anyone else should they say such things, Hux merely nodded and accepted the compliment for what it was.

“I hope you do manage to keep the man in line,” said General Delan. “It would be quite embarrassing if the Order mourns you only to have you emerge from death. Now, Generals, this concludes this session of High Command. Hail to the Order and Hail to the Supreme Leader.”

“Hail,” echoed the rest, and with the formal salute, they all disconnected, leaving each alone.

The meeting had run long, and Hux was free for the rest of this shift before he was to meet to review budget for maintaining the _Finalizer,_ a narrow budget made narrower with such funds poured into Starkiller. Normally he would ignore that and work anyway, but he had, for a reason he didn’t quite understand himself, invited Kylo to talk of the Arkanis Starvation Experiment.

Maker, he needed a drink.

Kylo was, of course, already inside his front room when Hux arrived, but he held up a hand and said, “Not a word out of you until I have a drink in my hand.”

“Is speaking to me so abhorrent?” asked Kylo, his tone hatefully amused.

“This whole situation is something out of a surrealist play and I’ve never had a taste for those,” corrected Hux as he poured himself a generous helping of brandy.

“Now a theater critic as well as a historian?” Hux said nothing, merely sat down across from him and gestured with the brandy for Kylo to begin. “Dr. Ancel didn’t replicate his results. I may not be among the scientific world but even I know that a study is not accepted unless the results can be replicated.”

“Are you familiar with psychological studies of any kind? The mind of a human alone is so complex and so constantly changing that to try and make them all line up like a simple chemical reaction is impossible. Add in the mind of any other sentient, it would be impossible to try and recreate the Starvation Experiment and get the exact same results.”

“It was a study to develop A-Rations,” said Kylo, his tone sharp in that accusatory way that Hux was learning meant that Kylo was angry that he didn’t quite know everything and that someone was smarter than him.

“Have you read the original study?  Yes it is called ‘The Biology of Starvation’ but it delves into the psychological impact as well. This wasn’t to see how to bring someone back from the brink of death, that’s a different sort of study. This was to see how extended famine affects sentients and how to bring them back to full health. That’s the risk. Helping one person who nearly died of starvation is hard enough, but keeping large groups alive and bringing them back to health after cut rations or famine, it’s harder. A-Rations were what kept those of the _Challenger_ stay alive. They were cutting rations to the smallest degree before rescue came, and those who didn’t die of thirst were staying alive and moderately healthy only through A-Rations.”

“The _Challenger,_ that was under General Yhen. The one who was caught between star systems with a broken hyperdrive.”

“So you _do_ bother to learn First Order history. Here I thought you spent all your time trying to prove you can’t get addicted to basic principles of life when you aren’t destroying my ship.”

“When I passed my Trial of Food, I did not suffer what those experimented upon in the Arkanis Starvation Experiment did,” said Kylo, ignoring the tired dig Hux made towards him.

The rest of the shift passed with what actually managed to be something near pleasant discussion, in it’s own way. It felt something like what talking to Professor Mabun or Dr. Riil felt like, but he had become the teacher and not the taught. Kylo was actually very intelligent, and as they discussed Dr. Ancel’s experiment and what it meant for the Order and to a lesser extent the Knights of Ren, Hux found himself in the strange position of actually _enjoying_ his time spent with Kylo.

And perhaps a bit worried that the man seemed so sure that his own “trial” had been proof of his own strength if he hadn’t fallen prey to what had happened to those participants. He was beginning to realize that this worry reached also to the man’s destructive tendencies. If meditation was so necessary to keep the Force in check, perhaps he was right to worry.

A ping sounded from Hux’s datapad, a reminder that he had a budget meeting, and so he stood, Kylo mirroring him in the motion. “This has been…oddly enjoyable,” said Hux. “But I have to go.”

“I won’t keep you. But I meant what I said before, you know.” He must have been at the back of Hux’s mind again, because he knew full well his confusion didn’t show to prompt Kylo to clarify, “I do want to know what about the J’lean Empire interests you so much.” And with that, he left. Hux shook his head, staring at the empty space Kylo had occupied seconds before. The Knight was stranger and stranger with each interaction.

Still, he had a budget to manage, and he began to think about shrinking the damages allowance in their budget, forcing Kylo to reign himself in, and possibly encouraging him to actually meditate. If he did that, then the _Finalizer_ would be spared more wounds, at least. Hopefully.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest 100% of what I know about earth science comes from freshman year of high school so expect layman's terms and a lot of handwaving.

High Command approved their return to Starkiller Base, and they were grateful for that, having something productive to do rather than simply intimidate a system into calmness. And when the familiar icy planet finally appeared before them, it was a relief, of sorts.

There was no permanent housing on the planet, not beyond what was necessary for those building the weapon, so even those who went to the planet had to come back up at the end of the day to the _Finalizer._ Hux spent the better part of his days planetside, listening to reports and actually seeing what he had only read about before.

But as the transports carried him from one piece of major equipment to the next, his most recent talk with Professor Mabun rose up in his mind, refusing to leave him alone. If Professor Mabun was right (and why wouldn’t he be? He had at least four different Dynasties to study) then by the end of this, Hux might be slitting his own throat to prove an example to….who? If Starkiller killed off whole systems of opponents, then by the end all that would be left might just be Starkiller. Alone in a galaxy missing half its stars. And if that came to pass, if he were the only general of High Command left, would he turn on his own people? Kill them to make examples?

They were coming up on the Oscillator now, and Hux was thinking of how awful it would be to be the only living thing in the galaxy, to kill everyone and everything around him.

Despite the nature of his thoughts, Hux still paid close attention as the intricate balance the Oscillator managed was explained to him. Despite the fact that they had a whole planet, there wasn’t enough room for two separate Oscillators, which may have been the safer option, the engineers muttered. As it was, the Oscillator needed such thick shielding for if any damage came to the mechanism while the sun was held in the core of the planet, it would be unable to manage the fusion and the explosion would force it to be reconstituted as a star, destroying the planet in the process.

“And would two Oscillators have solved the problem?” asked Hux, walking with the small flock of engineers behind him across the long walkway stretched across the deadly drop beneath them. There was hot air rising from below, a whisper of the molten rock and metal below the planet’s unreasonably thick crust, and Hux had to actively decide not to be intimidated or frightened by the sheer impossible heat that he should be able to feel it as it rose up and filled the pit below with steam as water was rushed through the mechanism to keep it cool.

“Two Oscillators would have shared the load and not need such shielding,” said one of the engineers, a man called Quinn. “But if one were to fail, the other would only be able to pick up so much of the slack. There would have been a time frame with which to fix the issue, whereas this one, should it fail, would give us only a half hour to evacuate the planet.”

A grim thought. Hux folded his lips, and began to worry.

No, he told himself, listening to more grim tidings as to why the Oscillator had to be so closely monitored. No, there was no reason to worry. These engineers were the best the Order had to offer, they wouldn’t be on the base if they weren’t. These men and women would protect Starkiller base from this rather alarming weakness, they were already prepared for any eventuality.

But still, to hear that constant care had to be taken that the planet wouldn’t evolve to utilize the Oscillator’s penetrating mechanism like a sort of volcanic shaft, that care had to be taken that to drill in like this didn’t cause some sort of fault line and thus earthquakes that would damage the Oscillator and a thousand other cares and precautions, it wasn’t reassuring. Still, there was a reason that most if not all mechanisms and living spaces were built in the same time zone as the Oscillator. If it _were_ to fail, everyone would have some warning. Perhaps not enough of one, given these horrifying predictions of what they had to constantly monitor, but one all the same.

Still, Hux was thinking that he should have paid more attention to environmental sciences while one of the other engineers, a beanpole of a woman called Feni, began to explain that to build such mechanisms it was necessary to actually remove plenty of the planet’s core, jettisoning it out into space to cool to solid metal (“we actually got most of the metal the base is built with from that jettisoned core”). But then she seemed to grow nervous, hidden behind a professional veneer as she said, “Unfortunately, that removed much of Starkiller’s magnetic field. The shields of the planet, which I’m sure my colleagues have explained to you function as a blockade, also make up for this planet’s weak magnetic field. If they were to be taken down for any extended period of time, or even just at all while Starkiller is charging, a solar windstorm or the draining of the star would probably wipe out our magnetic field and thus we would likely lose our atmosphere. For such a possibility, we planned on building more life support systems into the living quarters, beyond the added oxygen and ultraviolet light installations for when the trees are unable to photosynthesize as they normally would in between stars.”

“You planned? Have you not made certain of functionality at all times?” asked Hux, raising a brow at the woman.

“We did the best we could. But Starkiller has not been viewed as a planet, but as a weapon, something that can be built and changed according to our wills like the Death Stars were. Our budget covered only what we’ve built so far, and when we asked for more to build these extra life support systems to rebuild the atmosphere in the event we should lose it, we were denied. We were hoping you might be able to find a way for us to ensure survival in all eventualities.”

Hux nodded. He was certain at least half of that was simplified for his benefit of understanding as environmental studies and terraforming techniques weren’t present at all in the Academy. That was for the softer arts and their universities. “I will see what I can do. Send an estimate of cost immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

And once the surveying of the Oscillator was done, it was already approaching nighttime, and Hux was officially off duty as soon as he returned to the _Finalizer._ He was actually rather excited about it, because he had a previously arranged meeting with Dr. Riil by holo soon, and he had plenty to ask about the “Three Myths of Foundation” every text on the J’leans seemed to mention without explanation.

And when he was in his quarters and when Dr. Riil made contact the first thing she did was say, “I can see your stress from here, and I am multiple star systems away. No disrespect meant. What’s going on there?”

“Environmental science and realizing how little I know about terraforming,” said Hux.

“There are very few people who actually know anything about that, if it’s any consolation. But I must say, geology always has been something of an interest to me.”

“Doctor,” said Hux mildly, cutting off the tangent before it could begin.

“Apologies. But truly, don’t carry this all on yourself. One person cannot know everything. And what do you need terraforming for?”

“Doctor, that is classified military information.”

“Oh yes, I do keep forgetting about that.” Hux’s lips turned up at the corners, amused. She forgot he was one of the highest ranked members of the First Order? “Now, you mentioned you had a question for me.”

“Yes, about the Three Myths of Foundation. In everything you’ve sent me, all I’ve found is reference to them.”

“Ah yes. Understand, we don’t actually know with any certainty where the J’leans came from. They grew out of a very unremarkable place. Well set up, their capital was very easily defendable, but most of the planet’s great civilizations had grown to the south of them and didn’t record the emergence of this people. But we have three separate myths surrounding the birth of the Empire. I’m not overly certain which I put the most stock in, but it’s all we have. Though, I am planning an excavation in the old capital, just outside it actually, we’ve got evidence of a well in an ancient settlement, and you know, in small towns an empty well was often used to throw out waste which make them invaluable to us.”

“Doctor,” he said mildly, and she caught herself.

“Apologies. Now, of the myths, we have one that the original King of Kings, Remul, was born from the sun god himself, with a woman called Eln. We have no physical evidence of either Eln or Remul though, only art showing his conception and so on. If you’re interested, my colleague Dr. Jenu would happily take you through it, their thesis was on the subject of art dedicated to Remul and his mother. Now the second is that the J’lean people were a nomadic tribe that settled down and were chosen by the sun god to rule over the earth. The J’lean people were a people very based in military and expansion.”

“Given the nature of their empire, they would have to be, to be constantly expanding as they did.”

“Indeed,” she agreed. “And when the first leader, not King of Kings, mind, took his warriors to take over a neighboring tribe, he would give captured women to his soldiers as gifts. In this myth, he gave his best warrior the queen of one of the conquered tribes, and when he died with no heirs, named the child of that warrior and that queen his heir. That child went on to be the first emperor.”

“That one sounds plausible enough,” offered Hux.

“Except that the queen was the queen of a warrior people just like the J’lean and I don’t believe for one second she wouldn’t have stabbed her new husband in his sleep on the wedding night and run away. These were times far different from our own, General, but there’s not a woman in the galaxy who’d accept slavery if she could get out of it. There were no implants, only chains, and if a slave wasn’t chained to her new husband’s bed she’d leave, and leave him a knife in the heart for a wedding gift.”

Hux looked down at his hands at that, mulling it over as Dr. Riil continued. His mother hadn’t seemed that happy with his father, he could tell that even as a child, but she had stayed. But then again, she would have had to get a ship to take her to the New Republic to escape his father, and no ship left the planet without his knowing about it. The J’lean people had it plenty easier, it was only a matter of a few miles by foot to freedom for them.

“The third is the most absurd, by my reckoning. Remul and Eln could have existed and the divine birth simply propaganda, but this one I have a hard time believing. The first record of it was in ‘The Histories’ by Vig, but as with any history written at that time, there was quite a hazy distinction between fact and what made a good story. The J’lean people, historically, had a rival they only managed to conquer under King of Kings Henti, the Dilanea. The Dilanea had their own mythical first ruler, this one a woman named Aquin. According to Vig, Aquin had two sons, their names don’t survive he only calls them Elder Son and Younger Son, and the elder killed Aquin to become king. The younger, fearing his brother would kill him too, fled and founded the J’lean empire and swore revenge on his brother for killing their mother in cold blood. It explained the birth of the empire as well as why they had to fight the Dilanea.”

“But you don’t believe that.”

“Of course not. Too poetic for fact. Fact is never poetic. History is made of stories, but stories are attempts to put narrative into history.”

“But don’t wars between brothers lead to generations of war? There are plenty places held under the control of gangsters, and people die every day from grudges and feuds born from disagreement between brothers.”

“You speak as if you were part of it.”

“I was not born a General, Doctor. I earned my stripes in smaller disputes, and breaking up a gang war that held a whole planet captive made me a Lieutenant.” He could see Dr. Riil was impressed by that, but he wasn’t going to stroke his ego about it. “With such differing myths surrounding the birth of their nation, how did the J’lean people manage to rally together?”

“Ah, General, you know that better than you think,” said Dr. Riil, amusement in her face. “Think of your First Order, and of the Empire it grew from. How do your people rally behind you? We of the Unknown Regions don’t have your same culture. We were only just being contacted by the Empire while it was dying, we took you in when you promised us order. How do you reconcile the two? You come from an imperial regime, we had only loose trading agreements.”

“We bring order,” said Hux. “In the ashes of the Empire people suffered, with the Empire starting to create structure and starting to eliminate pirates, the same thing happened in the Unknown Regions. Exactly like when the J’lean Empire fell. We bring an end to that, dispose of warlords who look out for themselves first and give the people stability and peace.”

Dr. Riil smiled then, and said, “I sent you a piece on King of Kings Andian, didn’t I? Look up the Peace Altar.” Hux furrowed his brow, but did as he was told, the holo before him showing a tall stone altar, covered in ancient carvings of one of the near-human species of Yvinia, their bodies elongated and more avian than simian. “That, General, is the Peace Altar. It stood in the center of the J’lean capital under King of Kings Andian, and it was copied through other major cities throughout the empire. The Peace Altar was used for sacrifices to the sun god, and is covered with carvings showing how Andian brought peace to the empire. It’s propaganda. The J’lean people didn’t need a central myth of how their empire was born, they rallied behind bringing peace.

“See, we’ve forgotten how each people can have their own culture, their own language and their own traditions and customs. Even now we expect whatever interplanetary regime is tying planets together to have one single culture. And really, I do think that’s hurting us. The J’lean Empire knew everyone to have their own culture and while they prioritized their own they didn’t force people to assimilate. Look at the Republic, they force a planet to be regulated to one or two senators. A whole planet! The J’lean Empire was nearly overrun with senators and they only took one senator per culture!”

Hux simply stared at the Peace Altar, mind running. Dr. Riil seemed to note that, and left him to it, waiting with seemingly unending patience. Finally there was a quiet ping from a comm on her end, and she said, “As wonderful as our conversations are, General, I’ve a lecture to go teach, about the artistic development of the Kingdom of Wo.”

“And where was that?” he asked, willingly taking the chance to be shaken from his thoughts.

“From the south. It’s older than the J’lean Empire and where they took much of their own artistic base. The Kingdom of Wo was very interested in lasting art, they believed if an image of you survived your soul could return. Fascinating art, really. They moved from simply wanting lasting images to images that actually looked like the person it was supposed to be. I would ask if you wanted to sit in, we do have a holochair for my students in absentee, but I don’t think my students would pay any attention with you there.”

“Of course. It was a pleasure, Dr. Riil. Perhaps you could recommend some reading on the Kingdom of Wo? It sounds fascinating.”

“I certainly will. But one of these days you must give me your private communications address, your communications officers love sending me messages demanding why a General is receiving articles written by art historians about the implications of funerary art in the reign of King of Kings Kwestian.”

“I will have a word with them.”

“Thank you, the university really doesn’t want military inquiry.” She disconnected soon after, and Hux was left there, sitting and just staring at the holo of the Peace Altar. When he looked closer he could start to discern the narrative, start picking out Andian and his wife, start seeing the images of fruitful harvest, harmony among this avian species and even a few others.

That was the odd thing too, that one species could have so many different cultures born of their location. Stories he had read from the north of the J’Lean Empire spoke of monsters in the sea and the great heroes who defeated them, ripped off their arms and displayed them in central halls for the people to celebrate the defeat, while in the south they spoke of elegant gods whose hubris and lust destroyed people, cities, and even whole kingdoms. And even that alone was generalization.

Before he had gotten involved in this ancient history, it had been so easy to look at the dominant culture and say that was all there was to it. It was easy to say that Imperial style was this, Republican style was that, this planet believed this, that planet had this custom. It was easy to say each species had its own culture and to leave it at that.

And worst of all, staring at the image of Andian’s wife sitting with her children staring adoringly up at her as she accepted tribute, Hux had a creeping fear about what Starkiller would be and what it meant and again that discussion with Professor Mabun rose up in his mind. _If you start killing people to make an example of them, you end up ordering your last soldier to slit his own throat to be an example to himself_.

The J’lean Empire were military based but their rallying cry was peace. And they had crumbled. The Eda Dynasty had rejected warfare when possible, and ignored their neighbors to turn inward and cultivate a culture they thought superior to all others. And they had crumbled. The Empire had promised to make peace and undo the corruption that had been born from the Republic and it had crumbled in just twenty some years!

There was no answer, there was no right answer. The galaxy was dotted with wrecks and ruins of regimes that thought themselves immortal, and Hux had been raised on stories that the First Order was the child of the Empire and it had to reclaim its birthright. He had seen the vacuum the fallen Empire had created, seen what the New Republic didn’t bother trying to fix. An Empire could provide stability, peace, could provide for its people, and couldn’t be bogged down by endless debates with a single ruler at the helm rather than a thousand all clamoring for the ship of state to turn where they want it to. But Empires crumbled, there was no way to ensure that they would last, there had been a J’lean King of Kings who had lasted only for three months, and Hux began to wonder how anyone could have order or peace if the best form of government all crumbled and always left people struggling to keep themselves safe and alive and trying to make some sense of what to do next.

The galaxy had once been so much simpler before he started looking into ancient history and learning to apply that to the modern age. He had thought the First Order to be the strength left in the void the Empire left behind, something to keep the people safe and keep order where chaos was all too likely. But now that he looked at it, he got the unnerving feeling that they were the warlords that they subdued, like the warlords the people of what had been the J’lean Empire had flocked to for protection from the encroaching nomads. The feeling crept down his throat into his stomach and it felt unnervingly close to doubting everything about the Order he had sworn his very life to, and soon as he classified it as that, Hux shut off the holo and stood, readying himself for bed and ignoring it best he could.

Still, on the edge of sleep, Hux began to wonder if it would have been better if he hadn’t ever sought out this academic interest.

* * *

Phasma never complained. This was fact. So when she contacted Hux to tell him that their resident Knight of Ren had suddenly exploded in rage and had strangled three separate Stormtroopers at the exact same moment, it wasn’t a complaint but her own way of ordering him to get Kylo under control. By chain of command no one could technically order Hux anything, but Phasma found her ways.

“I accept that he’s volatile and if it isn’t the ship it’s my men, since they’re easier to replace than your officers,” she said. “But I do not accept that he should kill them. Injure them, fine, they can recover. But to kill them? No.”

“Where is he?” sighed Hux.

“Probably his quarters, that’s where he usually goes after a tantrum.”

“Right. Thank you for informing me, Captain.”

The creeping doubt from the night before was shoved away, ignored the way Hux ignored Republican propaganda that managed to creep its way into the Order’s planets, by dismissing it as lies and leaving it at that. And now he had the benefit of bubbling anger to help ignore it. Though that he should be so fixated on dismissing it didn’t actually bode well, and he pushed that out of his mind, letting the bubbling anger rise up in him in its place.

Overriding Kylo’s entry code, Hux stormed into Kylo’s quarters, and waited in the front room, knowing Kylo would come to him. And indeed he did, as if drawn by Hux’s anger. There was the noise in the modulator that indicated the drawn breath to speak, and Hux simply cut him off before he could even begin, “You strangled three Stormtroopers to death in the exact same moment. You cannot kill those around you just because you want to. Stormtroopers are more easily replaced, yes, but that does not mean that they are here for you to vent your tantrums on. You are the Supreme Leader’s apprentice and outside the military structure, yes fine, but that means that you are first and foremost supercargo on this ship, and you have no business killing personnel.”

“Do you ever get tired of coming and lecturing me?” asked Kylo.

“Trust me, I’m exhausted of doing this. But since you refuse to eat, drink, sleep like a normal person or meditate like you seem to have to do, I’ve resigned myself to this.”

“I meditate once a month, that is all I have need of. If that does not suit your tastes, I apologize, General.”

“And when do you plan on meditating next? Shall I let all personnel know exactly until when they should avoid you for their own benefit?”

“I will meditatie when I have need.”

Hux bit back the snap of an answer that rested on his tongue, and instead took a breath and began to utilize diplomacy. “You’ve said you were interested in the J’lean Empire.” That surprised Kylo it seemed, but Hux didn’t give him time to respond. “I will tell you about the J’lean Empire if, and only if, you meditate.”

“You’ve taken quite the interest in my habits,” said Kylo, but his voice took an odd quality.

“I’ve taken an interest in you refraining from destroying my ship or harming my personnel,” corrected Hux.

A silence stretched a long while before Kylo finally said, “Very well. I will meditate. Leave me, I will take you up on your offer later.”

“If I leave you alone you’re not going to meditate,” said Hux flatly. “I’ve the dubious honor of knowing you best out of anyone on this ship or on the base below us, and I know you won’t.” The shift in Kylo’s stance only proved his point, and Hux nodded shortly. “I will go collect my datapad and when I return you are going to meditate and only afterwards will I tell you anything about the J’leans. If you plan on having a tantrum about it, have it now.”

“I don’t want you here while I meditate,” said Kylo, his voice snappish.

“And why not?”

The silence drew out a long time, but Hux categorically refused to be the one to cave and break it. And Hux was a patient man, while Kylo was anything but. Finally, the Knight said, “I cannot meditate with the mask on. Not well, at any rate.”

Honestly, Hux didn’t want to see Kylo’s face any more than Kylo wanted to show it to him. So he nodded and said, “Then manage yourself. Meditate by yourself. Keep _order_ in yourself. Show me that you can manage not to damage a ship that is technically hosting you, and I’ll keep my end of the bargain. You meditate, manage not to hurt those around you, and I’ll tell you about the J’lean Empire.”

Turning on his heel, Hux left, trying not to think about the deal he had made, and trying not think about the pit of betrayal that he should have to share the J’leans with someone else. There were plenty students, plenty professors and doctors who taught the culture, he knew that, but there was still that awful feeling that something was being taken from him and he couldn’t quite say why. It was a pointless feeling, and he decided to ignore it. He had more important things to do anyway.

* * *

There was little that felt quite as bone-deep wrong as the transport that went into the barrel of Starkiller. Hux was supervising the finishing moments of this multiyear project, and he meant to supervise all of it. Lieutenant Mitaka was beside him, and he looked just as disturbed that they were going into the planet as Hux felt. They would be down with the crew all day, from sunrise well into the night, watching as they worked their way in a ring in a small section of the upper mantle of the planet.

The maintenance workers, mainly Stormtroopers, didn’t seem bothered at all, but the sheer size of where the deadly beam would be fired from was mindboggling as it was, and seeing the concepts and plans were very different from actually being there. “We’ll be going down about a hundred miles,” said SK-3376, helpfully explaining to the officers exactly what would be happening. “That’s around where the upper mantle starts, and we’ve got a temporary structure there. From the upper mantle down we’re keeping very close eye on. A significant portion of the core was jettisoned, yes, and that was no small feat, but what’s left is still hot enough that we want to make sure that it isn’t going to be damaged after first firing. No one’s ever built a weapon like this, sirs, and we can’t let even a hairline fracture bring it down.”

“Commendable,” murmured Hux, staring down into the darkness. He could feel the heat in the Oscillator and it was worse here. The surface of the planet was incredibly cold, especially with Hard Winter setting in, and he hadn’t believed that he would need to remove his greatcoat as well as the sturdier coat he wore outside, the more fool he, for now Hux wondered how the Troopers didn’t boil alive in their armor.

“The upper mantle is still solid, is it not?” asked Mitaka, clearly valiantly ignoring how far down they were going.

“Mostly solid, sir,” agreed SK-3376. “It’s the core we had to jettison, and since then the center of the planet has been…well, in flux. Starkiller wants to stabilize itself, and we’re forcing it to do so, but it means we have to take care that even at its worst nothing will damage this. It’s estimated that after Starkiller fires, it will take at least three years before this cools enough for us to return and do maintenance on it, so we are taking every precaution beforehand.”

“And the core of the planet?”

“The pressure keeps what’s there solid, or at least that’s what I’ve come to understand. My team has never actually been down there, we only stay in the upper and main mantle. The outer core and central core is beyond us, sir. I’ve heard the center is nearly two thousand kelvin.”

Hux listened to the talk about the center of the planet and the way it functioned and thought about the Oscillator’s incredibly delicate nature and began to tell himself again that every delicate piece of machinery was closely monitored by professionals and there was no reason to worry that the planet would tear itself apart beneath his feet. But even at their height of power the J’leans had recognized that nature was far more powerful than they were, and the Edans had made reference to the court and tribunal of the elements deciding the fate of the accused.

He should feel like he had surpassed them, become master of a planet to bend it to his will where they had cowered in the face of simple forces of nature. He should feel as if the Edan Emperors and the J’lean Kings of Kings would have worshipped him as a god to do what he was doing to the planet, to carve a hole to the absolute center of it, to be able to absorb a star and hold the fusion inside, to turn it into a weapon to destroy whole systems.

But as he wiped the sweat that kept trying to drip into his eyes, Hux only felt as if he had fallen prey to Edan hubris, the impossible pride that Fate would punish him for, taking everything from beneath him and leaving him to fall.

The outpost at the edge of the crust held alternate suits for the Stormtroopers, which SK-3376 described as being thermal suits that allowed them to keep working in uniform. And then reminded them that in the presence of commanding officers a Stormtrooper could not remove their helmet let alone change into another suit without permission. So, Hux gave it, and he and Mitaka looked out into the looming blackness of the barrel, feeling impossible heat and standing in the one spot of light in impenetrable darkness.

It was a silly human thought, but Hux began to think himself small and insignificant, looking out into darkness and staring up to where he could just see the sky, illuminated where he stood in darkness, and felt that urge to reach for it, to leave this darkness. Mitaka beside him looked no better.

“At midday the sun is supposed to shine directly down here,” said Mitaka suddenly, making Hux turn to him. The Lieutenant suddenly seemed to realize what he had said and said, “Sorry sir, I…I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s already hot enough down here, if the sun gets added in, I can only imagine,” said Hux mildly, turning back to looking up at the distant light far above them. This was as close as he’d get to forgiveness. “It’s good to have the warning, Lieutenant.”

“Sirs?” came SK-3376’s voice behind them, the Trooper standing there in the thermal suit and holding two thermal vests. “You are going to want these. Otherwise you’ll get heatstroke. Aside from that, SK-8821 has ice for you to bring.”

“Ice?” asked Hux even as he took the vest.

“Water would evaporate too fast, we use ice because then it takes a little longer. We need water to last as long as possible further down, after all.”

Armed with a thermal vest pressed against his undershirt and his sleeves rolled up, ice at his side, Hux descended even further down. The Stormtroopers worked easily enough, checking the sides thoroughly for anything out of the ordinary. Mitaka looked miserable, and Hux felt no better. His face felt red and he felt horrifyingly close to gasping at any moment, so hot was the air. Still, the thermal vest did its work and while he was absolutely miserable it wasn’t heatstroke, at least, no matter how close he came.

“How far down are we exactly?” asked Hux, taking a long drink of the water. It truly was melting incredibly fast.

“Two hundred fifty miles, sir,” said SK-8821. The whole suit was clearly better than just the vest, because the trooper didn’t sound bothered at all. If Hux were anyone else, he might have felt jealous, but he certainly wasn’t going to put on Stormtrooper armor no matter the thermal benefits. “We should get down to one thousand by end of day, and that’s as far as we’ll take you. The vests alone won’t help and you’ll get hyperthermia.”

“Hairline!” called one of the troopers, and they all passed up to him a welding torch, so he could seal the hairline fracture he had found.

“Could one hairline really destroy the planet?” asked Mitaka, wiping away sweat and looking halfway to collapse.

“Well if Starkiller fires more than once every four years, this could grow and we would have no way of knowing,” said SK-3376. “There’s going to be a lot of pressure put on this structure and all precautions must be taken.”

And so they slowly descended, the ice melting and the water starting to get warm, even with the specifically engineered thermoses they were in. They were around five hundred eighty miles below the surface when the sun began to peak over the edge. Where before it had been dark, the whole place was suddenly filled with light, dazzling those so far below, but the Troopers merely put up a canopy, casting them in shade. “No work to be done until the sun goes away,” explained SK-3376. “Too much additional heat. Permission to remove helmets so we can eat, sirs?”

“Permission granted,” said Hux, grateful for the canopy blocking the sun but not willing to ever say so.

The midday meal was simple and was passed in silence, and after they simply waited in silence until the sun was gone. Hux knew that if he and Lieutenant Mitaka weren’t there, the Troopers would have been talking, amusing themselves to pass the time. Perhaps someone else would feel bad that their presence was so intimidating, but that simply felt right to Hux, and he was pleased with what effect he had.

Still, by the end of the day, when they reached the surface of the planet again, the biting wind was such a relief that Hux wanted nothing to do with his coat, at least for a little bit. He had forgotten how cool it truly was on Starkiller Base, and at night it was even cooler. Mitaka too looked just as relieved, and Hux had a feeling that the man would never complain about the cold again.

His datapad, when he got back to it, had a collection of suggested articles on the Kingdom of Wo from Dr. Riil, a new article written about expressions of religion under the T’um Restoration from Professor Mabun, and a report that Kylo Ren had gone down to base and a returning report that while he had gone to the base he had never arrived at the docking station. He would never have gotten either of these messages were it not for the fact that it was Kylo Ren and Snoke’s favorite had gone entirely missing.

His ship hadn’t broken up or exploded upon entry to the atmosphere, so at least he wasn’t dead, just somewhere out on the base. So, Hux dispatched a team to see if they could find him, just to make sure he was alive.

Apparently Kylo had gone to the other side of the planet, to one of the permafrost coniferous forests and took his saber to cut down no less than three of the trees. That was slightly better than destroying an expensive piece of equipment or murdering personnel, Hux had to admit that. But when Kylo insisted that Hux tell him what about the J’leans interested him so much, Hux simply raised his brow and said, “I know for fact you haven’t meditated. You cut down trees instead. The deal was you would meditate before I told you anything.”

“How do you know I did that?” asked Kylo, sounding surprised though obviously trying to hide it.

“Believe it or not, Kylo, we do keep track of comings and goings on this ship. You left the _Finalizer_ but never arrived at base like you said you would be. So a party was sent out to find you. They made the wise decision not to engage, though, once they found you.”

“You called me by my name again.”

“Get out of my rooms. And do try to meditate.”

* * *

Kylo held out for two more weeks before he finally appeared at Hux’s door in the evening, saying, “I only meditate once a month. This is the only time I’ll do it.”

“Until next month,” said Hux smoothly, covering his surprise that Kylo’s curiosity about a long dead culture and why it appealed to Hux would actually come to this. “Perhaps we should keep a schedule.” Kylo ignored him, instead coming inside and sitting down in the center of the room, his legs folded. “Have you already begun?”

“I’ve said before I don’t meditate well without the mask.”

Hux didn’t have to be a Force user to realize how uncomfortable Kylo was, and he simply took up his datapad and sat down in his chair, casually crossing his legs and calling up the translation of Vig’s _The Histories_ that Dr. Riil had done herself. Immersing himself in the text, it still took a few minutes before Kylo reached up to remove his helmet.

Hux didn’t even look up then, actually interested in this piece of work. But he caught out of the corner of his eye the contrast of his pale skin against the dark of both his clothing and hair, which was far longer than was allowed in the military. Then again, he thought, Kylo certainly was outside of that.

_The elder son, oh curse his name! has falsely spread_

_Perfumed beddings upon Aquin’s funeral bed_

_Beloved queen, though she did not know_

_With gentle foot to the grave did go_

_The younger son, bless his memory oh Sol! stays_

_At his mother’s side the good prince walks her to her end of days_

_“Sweet mother, the bed awaits,” Elder Son did say_

_Though poisonous his words his sweet tone did his mother sway_

From Kylo there came a release of breath, and Hux figured he had settled into meditation, sitting so still with the air around him almost pulsing. Finally, the man was at some sort of rest, and if this did what it was supposed to the ship, base, and personnel that had all once been his victims would be spared. Still he ignored him, reading instead of Elder Son’s poisoned bedsheets to claim his title early, and Younger Son’s devotion to his mother.

It was only when Kylo’s body started to go entirely limp and he fell back against the ground did Hux look up. Suddenly he could see how Khee had mistaken meditation for sleep. Kylo had gone limp, breaths slow and deep. Hux honestly would have believed he had fallen asleep but for how everything not nailed down began to raise slightly above the ground, all maintaining exactly three inches of height off the ground. Even Hux sitting in his chair was floating, and wasn’t that an odd sensation.

Floating there and trying to ignore that that was the case, Hux stared at the Knight before him. If anyone had asked him what he had expected to see beneath Kylo’s mask his first response would be to lecture them for engaging in gossip about such a high ranking member of the Order, and mostly to cover for the fact that he didn’t actually have any idea.

He certainly wasn’t expecting what he did see. The man was just that, a man. Pale with long features, a prominent nose and full lips, decorated with a few freckles, even. His eyes were closed and that was probably a blessing, he couldn’t see how Hux’s eyes tracked over the curve of his jaw and the fall of his dark hair, nearly curly but cut too short to curl as it could. It fanned out from his face, and if Hux were poetic he might have some asinine comparison to a star’s corona, but anyway the hair was too dark for that.

Kylo was homely, but Hux had seen dozens of beauties on the arms of powerful men and women and there was something refreshing in something homely. Shaking his head as if to clear it, Hux turned back to the old text before him. As he read, he felt something in the back of his mind, much like how Kylo’s intrusions usually felt, but this wasn’t quite the same. Those were intrusive, this felt curious. A brush against the edge of his mind, a brush against so much more intimate than his mind. Were he more poetic, he might call it his soul.

_Aquin the Great, glorious queen she was,_

_Lay in innocence before death’s cruel jaws_

_And as she fell to sleep at the musician’s tune,_

_Elder Son sent her into the tomb_

_Younger Son slept that night_

_And within his dreams was gifted such a sight_

_The Moon, Sol’s own sweet wife, weeping,_

_“Oh, son! Your mother! She is being murdered as she is sleeping!”_

_Younger Son ran to this mother, woke her in fright_

_Said, “Mother, I dreamt of the gods this night!”_

_“My sweet darling boy, we must go to temple with haste!”_

_And away they went, thinking Younger Son by the gods graced_

Hux didn’t even like poetry, but Vig was a historian in the midst of the J’lean Empire and he knew the culture better than any current historian, so he would simply have to ignore that it was a poem. At the thought, he felt an amused brush at the back of his mind, and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. At least Kylo was having fun, levitating Hux off the ground and laughing that he tried to ignore that a poem was a poem.

Almost in response, the chair started to drift higher, but without even looking up, Hux snapped, “Bring me back down or I’ll jettison you out an airlock.” The chair lowered again, back to three inches like everything else.

They remained like that for a long time, Hux reading an ancient text while floating in his chair and Kylo laying limp on Hux’s floor. Finally, after what must have been an hour, everything slowly lowered again and those occasional intimate brushes against his being retreated. It was a few minutes more before Kylo’s eyes opened, and Hux was struck by their depths, a brown that looked nearly as dark as the void in between stars, those great expanses of nothing that any ship was right to fear.

“Is meditation supposed to knock you out like that?” asked Hux only as Kylo slowly sat up.

“If I were to meditate more often than I do, no. The Jedi meditated every day, sometimes many times a day, and this never happened to them. More their loss. The Force didn’t run through them like it does me.”

“But you won’t be destroying anything anytime soon?”

“Likely not.” There was an _unless_ in there, but Hux didn’t want to hear it. Despite what Hux expected, Kylo didn’t reach for his helmet, matching Hux’s gaze with those too-deep too-dark eyes. “Tell me of the J’leans. Why did they catch your interest?”

“Do you not want to put your helmet on?” it was an honest question, it was honestly surprising that Kylo wasn’t hiding away his face again.

“You don’t mind my face,” said Kylo with a shrug as if it was obvious. He was incredibly mellow, loose at the joints and looking halfway to sleep. It was unfamiliar and almost unnerving, seeing Kylo like this and not a volatile weapon. This was worse than hearing his voice alongside Khee’s.

“I don’t have any opinions on your face,” corrected Hux, but sighed and asked, “What do you know of the J’leans?”

“Only what I read off your datapad. They were a military empire in the northern hemisphere of Yvinia, they dominated a continent and stretched onto their neighboring continents at its height. Lasted roughly a thousand years, but was in decline for the last hundred years or so. It doesn’t seem to hold much weight now.”

“From one, learn all,” countered Hux, before launching into something of an improvised lecture on the J’leans. It was simplified as his earliest meetings with Dr. Riil were, and his fingers flew to draw up images of statues, of the Peace Altar, of even the flaking remains of wall paintings. And through it all, Kylo listened intently and watched with that same care.

All it was was a general overview, glossing over most of it, simplifying it immensely, but Kylo listened carefully all the same, occasionally asking a question. It felt something like what their discussion of the Arkanis Starvation Experiment had been, oddly pleasant. This, at least, didn’t carry such disturbing weight as that experiment had.

Still, the shift changed and Hux was due to go down to Starkiller and see the progress of building the bridge, which wasn’t a pleasant thought, not with Hard Winter starting to creep in. Hux stood, and Kylo did the same, taking his helmet as he went and fixing Hux with an odd look before saying, “If I do my monthly meditation with you, will you tell me more? I have to say, Soldier Emperors in an already militaristic empire sounds interesting.”

They _were_ interesting, a time of great unrest and Dynasties that rarely lasted longer than three generations. They were great warriors who tried to hold what was already declining together, and might have done so, had corruption not already been too deeply planted resulting in so many assassinations. “It’s a deal,” said Hux instead. Kylo nodded, replaced his helmet, and swept out of the room, leaving Hux wondering if the deal he had made was smart.

* * *

Kylo honestly was calmer the next few days, that was obvious. If this is what meditation naturally did, no wonder Supreme Leader discouraged it in his Knights. He would actually listen, and think before he spoke. He was something approaching reasonable and “reasonable” certainly wasn’t the word that should be connected to the scourge that the Supreme Leader held in his hand.

Still, it made the slow ramp up to his normal self more obvious and more irritating. A too quick snap of a response, a tense line of his shoulders, they were all indicators that the Force was moving through him unchecked again. At least Kylo wasn’t struck down by visions, he seemed to grow more tense and more irate.

Hux had been a bit disconcerted by how loose and calm meditation had made Kylo, but he was in the extremely odd position of actually missing that state of being the closer Kylo got to his normal self. And there was a whisper at the back of his mind that perhaps the Kylo who had emerged from his meditative state actually was the baseline, that this version of him wasn’t who he was meant to be. Or maybe, more accurately, that was _closer_ to who he was supposed to be, made exaggerated by the relief.

And then, Kylo fell in step beside him one day, walking from the _Finalizer_ ’s many hangers after Hard Winter sent such a blizzard that construction had to be halted as personnel hunkered down into shelters to wait it out and Hux only just got off the planet before it grew too bad. There were upsides and downsides to building all command and living quarters in the same place on the planet, the upside was that immediate evacuation could occur should anything happen to the Oscillator, but the downside was a single blizzard over what was truly a tiny portion of a planet could shut down all but basic communications between the base and the ship.

“The planet frightens you,” said Kylo in his cryptic way, and Hux didn’t have any patience to deal with him and his increasingly volatile state and his odd statements that weren’t at all true.

“A rock doesn’t _frighten_ me,” said Hux with as much ire as he felt. The blizzard was only barely visible from the ship anyway.

“Not the planet itself,” observed Kylo, sounding like he was in one of his calm moments, and that was even worse. “But forces of nature. Understandable, really. You can’t fight them, outthink them, outmaneuver them, you can only run or hide. You’ve narrowly escaped a blizzard, but what about the things you can’t run from? Have you ever seen a tornado? They’re terrifying, and they sneak up on you. They destroy everything in their path but you can’t predict what their path is. They can destroy one house and leave the one next to it entirely untouched. You can only hide from them, dig yourself a hole and hope the winds don’t pick you up and carry you away.”

Hux hadn’t actually ever seen a tornado. But he was familiar enough with the concept; a funnel cloud and high powered winds that was born out of a thunderstorm. It was abstract, his knowledge, but when Kylo described one it sounded annoyingly like Kylo himself. Unpredictable, destructive, and soon as their destruction was wrought it disappeared back up into the clouds.

“Is there a reason you’re spouting philosophy about meteorological phenomenon or are you just amusing yourself?”

“There is no shame in learning you aren’t greater than nature. The greatest men have to learn that, or they’ll be overtaken by something as common as a storm at sea.” Hux’s mind snapped to the tale of King of Kings Ligu and his war against the sea. He had snorted, thinking the man insane, but when he read further he found the man’s son had drowned in a storm, and in his grief Ligu had declared that all the treasures of the sea should be brought to him in place of taxes for a year, taking the ocean’s treasures as his most precious son had been taken from him.

“Kylo, I spent a majority of my time in space, the chances of me being caught in a storm at sea are incredibly low,” said Hux, not even looking up from his datapad as he walked despite that ancient tale of a father's grief rattling in his mind.

“Perhaps,” allowed Kylo. “But a planet is not supposed to be a weapon. You’re scared about just how delicate the Oscillator is, you’re worried about the minimal magnetic field, you’re anxious that something in the planet will rebel against how careful you’ve been and that it will fall apart. A hairline crack in the barrel of Starkiller could go unnoticed for four years and if it fires more often than that it could grow and fall apart. Nuclear fusion isn’t supposed to happen inside a planet and you know that. So you’re anxious that even at its first firing Starkiller will be ripped apart by the energy of the star.”

“Would you _kindly_ get out of my head?” He turned to Kylo at that, snappish and angry at the blizzard, at nearly being caught in it, at delayed construction that would have to wait until the snow was removed, at Kylo for casually invading his mind, at plenty things. He wished he could throw a tantrum like Kylo usually did, wished to _do_ something with the restless anger in his body. Kylo destroyed things and Khee screamed and either of those options seemed plenty appealing. But he was a professional, he was on duty, he wasn’t going to do either of those things.

“They’re perfectly legitimate things to worry about,” said Kylo instead. “I worry about them too.” Now that was a shock. “Khee, before she left, she had a vision, said that unless all care and precaution was taken Starkiller would not survive. And now that so many reports are being made and sent at all times about status of every apparatus, I worry.”

That was chilling. He didn’t know how reliable a Force vision was, or even if Khee was interpreting whatever she saw correctly, but now for every minute he spent aboard the Finalizer, he would be spending two on base, just to make sure everything was in proper working order. Out loud he said only, in a voice that approached condescending but didn’t quite get there, “And are emotions not something you have to worry about addiction to?”

“Worry and anxiety are siblings to fear, and fear is one of the most direct links to the Dark Side. So to answer your question, no. Serenity is one of the building blocks of the Jedi Order, not ours. The Jedi reject emotion, not us.”

“That’s one of the first logical things I’ve heard about your training.”

“Khee’s vision is not self-fulfilling. It is one future, but it is not the only future. Let fear guide you towards caution, not towards rash decisions,” said Kylo, and that tone of voice was awfully familiar.

“I am not one of your Knights who needs counsel on their trials, Ren,” snapped Hux. “If I want your opinion and counsel, I’ll ask for it.”

“You have a nasty habit of never asking for anything, not even when you sorely need it.”

“It’s called self-reliability. I suggest you look into it.” And he stormed off at that, angry that Kylo had been so calm through that discussion while he had gotten wound up. Kylo was the only person who managed that, just as he was the only thing to case Hux headaches, and no matter how oddly enjoyable it was to talk to him in an intellectual setting, this didn’t make up for it.

When he got to the bridge he was struck with the sinking realization of just how little there was to do when the ship was in orbit and communications were sparse. Mitaka was stuck on base, and since he was the most senior officer there it was from him they received what few reports they got. Mostly wind speeds and amount of snow and estimate on how long it would take to shovel it out before building could resume.

It would take an annoyingly long time was the general picture he was getting out of the reports. The estimate was thirty inches of snow, and that nine month estimate he had given High Command seemed impossible, if early Hard Winter was sending this type of snow. When the report came in that not only was it a blizzard but a thundersnow, Hux was amazed that not only Kylo but _the weather_ could cause headaches for him.

* * *

As it happened, that blizzard did not set the trend for Hard Winter. But it didn’t make it any easier.

Starkiller had greenhouses installed early on, and when the year turned round to the harshest of the many winters that plagued the permafrosted planet, those greenhouses were hard pressed to support all those on base. A few hearty plants managed to provide bits of edible food, and there was no lacking of pine nuts, but nuts and roots weren’t nearly enough to feed four thousand Stormtroopers, four hundred engineers, and fifty officers. The _Finalizer_ didn’t need to rely on those crops at least, but when reports came that one of the panes had broken and the snow and cold was leaking in it was cause for some distress. Easily fixed, but supply runs began to go between the base and the ship, making up for what had been lost by that break.

This was why Hux preferred ships and didn’t like being planetside for longer than a few hours, as a rule. Ships didn’t have seasons and didn’t have the problems that went along with it. All small, all easily managed, but enough that they got incredibly annoying. Add that on top of the rest of the stress he carried in his shoulders and that awful creeping doubt that liked to come back and whisper just before he fell asleep questions about if the First Order truly was what it said it was and actually had citations and sources to make itself credible, and Hux was in an almost permanent bad mood, one that even indulging in his store of brandy didn't ease.

When he had been a small child, when he got so stressed and tense as was his wont, the nanny droid his parents had left him to would start emitting a hum at a certain frequency that it told him when he asked was comparable to that which cats purred at. It was a frequency that helped humans heal faster and relieved tension. And it had worked. But it had been an indulgence for a child, not for a General of the First Order.

All in all, Hux was in no mood to entertain when Kylo appeared at his door that night. But before he could send him on his way, Kylo said, “I don’t even want to meditate this month, but clearly you need it as well. If I’m going to meditate you’re going to as well.”

“Certainly not. I don’t have to worry about the Force or whatever it does for you,” snapped Hux.

“You need an uninterrupted span of time to relax and if you keep using alcohol to relax at the rate you’ve been going, your liver isn’t going to thank you by the end of Hard Winter.”

“And since when are you an expert on how to keep a human body functioning? Weren’t you the one trying to insist you weren’t addicted to food or drink?” the insult was all sharp barbs but thanks to the mask he couldn’t see if I landed, but found himself being pushed into his own quarters. “Unhand me!”

“You’re never so obvious about your insults.” And that was true. Hux wasn’t even angry at that, just resigned as Kylo settled them both down on the ground.

“Alright, fine. How does this work?”

“The general instruction is to focus on your breath and clear your mind.” Hux snorted. “Exactly my thoughts. I tend to breathe according to my heartbeat. I have the option to open myself to the Force, you don’t. So…count your pulse and breathe to that, focus on keeping pace with that. That should work.”

So the two sat there, Hux’s finger over his pulse point on his wrist somewhat hesitantly, breathing according to the beating of his heart. He felt Kylo brushing his mind, checking on how he was doing, and as the Force began to move through him, actually managed to impart calm into him, making him feel much less silly about the whole exercise. And it was helping, oddly enough. Just sitting there breathing, not having to worry about anything, not having to _do_ anything but just breathe and exist, was…new.

It was that calm that didn’t make him immediately get up and leave when Kylo went limp, falling not back this time but collapsing so his head was on Hux’s knee. There was surprise and apology when Kylo’s mind next touched his, and Hux accepted that Kylo was in no state to consciously move his body away, and instead let his mind focus on the spot of warmth that was Kylo’s head on his knee.

They remained like that until Hux didn’t know how much time had passed, his mind slipping to a hazy state of being as it did when he just hovered at the edge of sleep without actually reaching it. But eventually Hux heard the sound of everything in his quarters being set down from where they had been floating and took that as his cue to open his eyes knowing it would be a while yet before Kylo opened his eyes. He had to admit, he honestly did feel much more at ease, perhaps not as obviously as Kylo did, but certainly enough.

He hadn’t seen Kylo’s face since the month before and despite his sharp memory the edges of it had grown blurry in his memory, and he took this moment to study it. It was so oddly handsome, a collection of features that despite proportions that might have been unseemly managed to keep an odd sort of harmony. If the lips were thinner or the brows less strong or even if there were no freckles that carelessly dotted his face, the whole may have been lesser, but it added up into a whole that honestly wasn’t unpleasant to look at. And maybe that was why he hid behind a mask. If Snoke’s own scourge was known for his youth and his beauty, it certainly wouldn’t add to respect for the other Knights.

And yet, Kylo’s words from the previous month came back to him. _You don’t mind my face._ Had he learned his face was distasteful to look at and that was why he hid it? Sheer vanity alone? That might have been the case as well, knowing Kylo. He was as vain as he was fanatic, self-denying as he was indulgent of his flair for dramatics, a study in extremes.

Khee wore a mask too, and when he had heard her voice she sounded so young. Kylo was their master and yet he was just as young, if not younger, than Hux himself. Those beneath him ought be the man’s juniors, yes? But then again, there were plenty Major-Generals beneath Hux himself who were nearly twice his age, he outranked his own father, even.

“You’re thinking very loudly about my Knights,” muttered Kylo, not raising his head.

“Do they all wear helmets like yours?” asked Hux, surprising himself even as he asked. “Khee did, what about the rest?”

“Yes, Snoke ordered it.” His voice was mellow, calm without even a whisper of his usual anger and danger.

“Where did they come from? Where did you find them?”

“I wasn’t the only child who had Snoke in their heads since birth. I was just the oldest. Every Force user he could reach, he got. So when the others came, I looked after them. Snoke pits them against each other to prove their strength, but not against me. They won’t do it.”

“Why not?”

Kylo shrugged, the motion halted by his position. “Better ask them than me.”

That was…oddly distressing, that there should be seven people who have had Snoke in their minds since they were _infants._ But why should that be distressing? To have such intimate communion with the Supreme Leader was an honor many sought, and certainly to have something influencing someone from infancy wasn’t too distressing, the troopers all had that.

And perhaps _that_ was the distressing thing, that the Knights of Ren should have been raised like Stormtroopers. Were they as programed as the lowest grunts of the Order?

Instead of voicing these thoughts, he simply asked, “So you don’t know where they came from?”

“None of us know where the others came from. We know a few things, I know Quen Tor never learned Standard and still doesn’t speak it and I know Obsi was born in the mountains because he’s always had better breath control than the rest of us, but only things like that.”

Hux turned that thought over in his head, contemplative, and as he did, he didn’t realize what he was doing until Kylo let out a low hum. As his mind was elsewhere, his hand had reached for Kylo’s hair, touching the soft strands despite himself. Pulling back his hand he took a breath before saying, “You meditated, according to our deal I’ll tell you about the J’leans. Do you still want to hear?”

“Of course.” But when Hux moved to get up, Kylo simply raised a hand, and Hux’s datapad floated over to them.

“You’re an absolute child,” muttered Hux, taking it and yet not disturbing Kylo from his place on his knee. It was only now that he realized that Kylo had been expecting him to move his knee away, but in his acceptance of the man’s limp fall he had resigned himself to the man seeking out some detached form of comfort. Sighing, he called up one of the articles on the Soldier Emperors and began. “The first King of Kings that was called a Soldier Emperor was in the Crisis of the Second Century.”

“What was their starting point of the calendar?” asked Kylo.

“It was the second century from the end of the empire, it was given the name later. The first Soldier Emperor was Thrax. He ruled for three years before assassination. His successor ruled for three months. That was the Year of the Six Emperors. They were awful decline and were trying to hold the empire together.”

How odd, to be able to discuss such ancient history with just as much ease as if they were sitting in chairs opposite each other, not on the floor with Kylo’s head resting on his knee, imparting him a sort of calm he hadn’t had since the first worries of the Oscillator were born two months prior. Hux tried not to think about it, turned his thoughts back to the subject he was imparting rather than let himself think of it. And if those stern redirections of his thoughts were noticed by Kylo, at least the man had the grace not to give it away more than that small smile that tugged at his lips every time it happened.


	3. Chapter 3

Kylo seemed to decide a lot about their relationship, deciding that he was going to spend time with Hux even outside the time he came to meditate under Hux’s watchful eye. What was strange was that Hux didn’t actually mind that much. With the stress of Starkiller coming achingly close to full functionality and Khee Ren’s vision, Hux found himself actually glad to have someone else who knew about that awful future presented.

He still wasn’t too sure about how much faith he put into the visions, but the idea was certainly chilling enough. Poetic too, if he thought too much about it in those weak moments between sleep and wakefulness where he found himself questioning.

Hux’s front room was where they ended up spending the General’s precious free time, Kylo asking after some part of J’lean history or running forms while Hux read or worked. It had happened so gradually that Hux didn’t even realize it until he looked up from the most recent report sent to him of Kylo’s own destruction and found he fully expected Kylo to be there, only to be greeted by nothing.

Kylo had no place being comfortably present in Hux’s rooms, he reminded himself. There was no reason for the Knight to always be there. Reminding himself firmly of this, he turned back to his work, pausing every few minutes to take a breath and actively relax the tension in his shoulders that always built up from the stress of command. He got through plenty reports from all corners of the ship and the base they orbited around when he felt a presence announcing itself with insistent pressure in his head just behind his ears. That was not where his headaches resided, those were behind the eyes, so this could only be one thing.

_Stay out of my head,_ he warned, thinking loud as he could.

_You are not in a position to give orders, General._ Hux startled to his feet, nearly dropping his datapad as he snapped to attention on sheer instinct alone. The Supreme Leader!

_Please accept my apologies, I did not-I thought-_

_You expected Kylo Ren. You are forgiven the mistake, General, the Force-blind never can tell the difference. I am in communion with my apprentice, come join us. You have orders._

And just like that, it was gone. The Supreme Leader was far more elegant in his methods of the mind, not tugging but simply announcing his presence in the aural and Wernicke areas of the brain, speaking directly to what processed sound instead of shouting over the brain. Now that he had a wider range of Force users in his brain, Hux knew that Kylo was as clumsy as a Nerf in a porcelain shop in manners of the mind.

There was no time to dwell, however, checking his uniform over for a sparse second before hurrying to the holochamber. It would not do to keep the Supreme Leader waiting.

Snoke was intimidating and awe inspiring, that much was true. Hux didn’t know if the Supreme Leader was as large as his projection indicated or not, but it wasn’t his size alone that did it. Snoke’s very presence was almost overwhelming, and ended up making Hux feel as if he were lesser than he was. That feeling had been all the stronger when spoken to directly, and it made seeing the man in the holochamber almost a relief in comparison.

“Supreme Leader,” he greeted, bowing his head in respect before standing to attention, ignoring Kylo beside him. Kylo too seemed to ignore him, focused on his master.

“Good of you to join us, General,” said Snoke, his voice like touching metal in the depths of winter with no gloves on. Cold, strict, but inevitable. “You and your ship are to set out immediately.”

“Sir?”

“There is a map I seek. It leads to the location of Luke Skywalker. I expect you’ve heard of him.” Hux didn’t bother to nod. Of course he had, everyone had. Luke Skywalker and his sister had brought down the Empire, sent them into exile in the Unknown Regions. And then he had disappeared with no trace fifteen years later. But apparently that was false. “The Knights of Ren have been searching for it on my orders, but it seems they fall short. There are a few pieces left missing, and I _will_ have the full map.”

Hux thought of Khee and how she had cried out in the Force for her master’s help and how Kylo had immediately taken his ship and brought her back with him. He thought of how Kylo was so proud of his Knights no matter that he knew so little about them. He thought of how Kylo admitted they wouldn’t ever be pitted against him, how he had said he looked out for them.

Perhaps the Knights weren’t falling short, but the loyalties were perhaps different than they should be.

“Only three pieces remain missing,” said Kylo, drawing Hux’s attention. “All six of my Knights search for it, even covertly in Republic space–”

“And yet they have not found it. You coddle them and they do not grow strong as they should. They should be able to sense who has the information and take it from them, and yet they follow shadowy leads that bring about nothing. You will bring your Knights to heel and curb their weakness, Kylo Ren, or I shall do it for you.” Kylo bowed his head then, and Snoke’s attention turned entirely to Hux. He hadn’t faltered from attention at all, yet he felt the need to stand even straighter. “General, you will assist my apprentice. The Knights I have called back to my side, and Kylo Ren shall take on their task. He will meditate as much as possible to find the locations and you will go with him. Is that clear?”

“Entirely, Supreme Leader.”

Snoke stared him down before nodding slowly and saying, “You are dismissed.” With that, the hologram vanished, leaving the two there standing in silence. At least Hux finally knew what it was the Knights spent their time doing.

“This is the first I’ve heard of any map,” said Hux calmly the moment they excited the chamber. Kylo was absolutely bristling beside him and Hux knew that a whole room could be destroyed. Delicacy was necessary. “What exactly is it a map _of?_ ”

“Where Luke Skywalker has gone,” snapped Kylo, the sound of his voice cruel through the modulator.

“Yes, I did follow that. Where have your leads left you?”

“Absolutely nowhere useful. But my Knights have found scraps and pieced together a whole map but for the last pieces of Skywalker’s journey.”

“I am not questioning what your Knights have done. I have no doubt that Skywalker scattered them best he could and considering the man brought down an entire galactic regime I have high expectations according to his abilities. How haven’t your Knights been able to find the last pieces of the map?” _Aside from that they’re all terrified to meditate because they think they’ll be addicted._ The stinging comment rested on his tongue but he swallowed it back down. This was neither the time nor place for saying such a thing.

“I don’t _know._ ”

That was a tone of voice too close to destruction. This was dangerous territory they were in, and it was Hux’s job to get them out of it, lest someone (likely himself) would be hurt or something would be destroyed. “Alright. You know, our agreement still stands. The Supreme Leader just told you to meditate, if you meditate to find the map pieces then I’ll still tell you about the J’lean Empire.”

Kylo turned to him at that, and the modulator picked up the beginnings of speech before they were abruptly cut off. Kylo stopped walking and stood in silence for so long that Hux was actually starting to worry. “Kylo…?”

“I am holding six conversations in my head right now, Hux, I don’t have time for a verbal one as well.” The tone managed to come through as distracted, and Hux was startled. Kylo could talk to all six of his Knights at the same time? Impressive. Hux wasn’t sure he actually believed in that application of the Force, but the idea was certainly impressive.

“If you’re just going to stand still to talk to them, at least come do it out of the way,” sighed Hux. Kylo followed behind him as he set off, to an observation deck that looked out over the planet that was half machine by that point. Hux simply looked down at the planet while beside him Kylo stood still and silent, managing to speak to six different Knights all at once.

Hux found himself wondering about those conversations. Were they afraid that they had failed? Were they passing on leads? What sort of things did the Knights talk about in the privacy of the mind? He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, his chrono would alert him when it was time for his next shift. Finally, Kylo beside him gave a sigh and said, almost lost in the static caused by such a low volume, “First I must moderate my meditation, now I must dedicate myself to it?”

“Are you questioning the Supreme Leader?” asked Hux, not turning from where he looked down at the planet, a white gem of snow, and tracked what he recognized to be a blizzard by now, trailing restlessly in the southern hemisphere nearby the barrel of the weapon. Weather patterns had become more erratic the more they shaped the planet to their whim, and Hux felt a familiar sense of _wrongness_ in his stomach to think the planet was trying to kill them off the way a fever did a virus, freezing them out instead of burning them, as if the planet knew they would kill it.

“I’m questioning my own understanding,” said Kylo, keeping Hux from his awful thoughts. “If I meditate too much I’ll get addicted, he’s warned me of that but now he asks me to meditate…”

There was a play in the New Republic that had been the cause of outrage when it had crept into the outer limits of the First Order. A husband, an Imperial officer, who was trying to convince his wealthy wife that she was going insane so she would check herself into a mental care home and he could live comfortably off her fortune without having to deal with her. He told her to save her money and then chided her for being so frugal, denying that he ever told her to cut back on spending. He made the upper limits of the lights dimmer every day so when the wife called for lights at 100% they only turned up to 90%, and assured her she was imagining it.

Hux had been on the council that agreed to ban it from ever being performed in the Order for such slanderous accusations against the character of their cultural predecessors. To even hear it read out by that clinical droid had made him feel ill.

_“Mrs. Rend says ‘Dear, don’t you think it’s a little dark in here?’ Officer Rend says ‘It seems fine to me. You did set the lights to one hundred percent, didn’t you?’ Mrs. Rend says ‘Yes, but it seems just a little darker than usual.’ Officer Rend says ‘It’s just as bright as always, dear. You’re just imagining it.’”_

Officer Rend had been manipulating his wife, made her volatile and made her suffer, and that this banned play was rising up in his mind to hear what the Supreme Leader had instructed Kylo to do was incredibly worrying. But Hux didn’t bother to dwell on it. He couldn’t afford to dwell on it. Snoke and Officer Rend weren’t the same; Officer Rend was propaganda lying about the Empire and Snoke was the powerful leader of the First Order. The only similarity was that the New Republic hated both.

“I expect it means he believes you can resist,” said Hux. “If he has told you that you ran the risk of addiction before, then surely now he believes you strong against it.” It didn’t seem to placate Kylo, who still seemed tense. That was the stance of a man who was questioning whether or not he’d fulfill orders as they should be. “Do you doubt the trust Leader Snoke has put into you?”

“I don’t know. He said that I was too close to addiction but now he wants me meditating more and I…I don’t doubt _him_ but I…”

Hux wanted done with this conversation. Wanted done with hearing Kylo sound so nearly vulnerable. Wanted done thinking about Leader Snoke and that banned play whatever its name was and didn’t want to think about why those thoughts were knotting up his stomach. But if Snoke treated his own closest apprentice like Officer Rend did his wife…

_No._ Those were thoughts he couldn’t entertain at the moment.

“If I am to run around with you after this map, I suggest you meditate. And I meant what I said, the deal still stands.” _That_ caught Ren’s attention, of course it did.

“What more is there to tell of the J’leans?” asked Kylo only.

“There are scholars who have dedicated their entire careers to that empire, Kylo, do you honestly think you already know everything there is to know about it?” It took him a moment to realize that he had spoken to Kylo so familiarly, and cursed that Khee should have come and humanized the both of them to him.

“I suppose not…Tonight?” Hux nodded shortly and kept staring out towards Starkiller even as Kylo took his leave.

* * *

 Kylo’s meditation wasn’t any less overwhelming, it seemed, no matter that he was doing it more often. Hux didn’t care much whether or not the man would go limp, focused instead on his work. Despite having aides, there was still a ridiculous amount of paperwork that he had to do himself even beyond just pressing his thumbprint to it.

They had been at this for a few days now, Kylo meditating to try and find these map pieces, and Hux doubted that he could actually find anything. Whether or not the Force actually worked like that, if there were six Knights all constantly searching, how could just _one_ succeed where six failed?

“Why exactly _are_ you searching for Luke Skywalker?” asked Hux when Kylo emerged from his trance. “He’s not shown his face in fifteen years. Why does the Supreme Leader see him as a threat?”

“The mobility of the Knights,” said Kylo, not moving from where he lay on the ground, staring up at the ceiling. “Skywalker’s model for his school was to teach the next generation of Jedi without ever trying to remove them from the world. He let the students call their parents whenever they wanted, let them visit, all of it. He fostered weakness in place of control over one’s self.”

“And that extinct school is important because?” prompted Hux, unable to understand.

“Because Skywalker wasn’t killed with it. He’s still out there, and he’s incredibly powerful. It’s easy to think of him as an old man, but he’s not to be underestimated. The Knights, myself included, none of us are Masters of the Dark Side yet. We’re still just apprentices. And with all of us so far away from our Master, we’re vulnerable.” There was a lot of resentment in Kylo’s voice to admit it, and Hux raised his brows. That admission was surprising, both for that Kylo should have admitted it at all and that it should be the case. The Knights didn’t seem vulnerable. Just idiotic with their self-denying principles.

“The Supreme leader said the knights were to return to his side.”

“As well they should. Skywalker calls out in the Force to us, tries to tempt us, make us weak. It’s a call from the Light, and the shame of it is that we all feel it. And we all want to heed it. That’s why we have to be so strict with ourselves, otherwise we’ll be lured away to Skywalker.”

“So you want to kill him.”

“Yes,” answered Kylo, turning his head to finally look at Hux. “It’s the easiest answer. If we don’t kill him, then he’ll keep tempting us, and any other Force Users that we might find later. The Supreme Leader is concerned for us, that Skywalker’s lies will lead us astray.”

Officer Rend often told his wife that he was concerned for her, Hux remembered, before banishing that thought from his mind. There was no reason to be thinking of that play. “And have you gotten any closer to finding anything?”

“Hux, how large is the galaxy?” snapped Kylo.

“Two hundred lightyears across.”

“Do you know exactly how much space that _is?_ ”

Hux ran the math in his mind, silent for a long moment before saying, “Roughly two point eight nonillion kilometers across, and seventeen nonillion kilometers squared.”

If Kylo was surprised Hux could do that sort of math in his head, he said nothing about it, saying instead, “Do me the honor of allowing me more than a few days to cover that much space to find three pieces of a _map_ , please. Even your beloved _Finalizer_ can’t cross the galaxy that fast.”

Curiosity caught onto Hux at that. Kylo was casting his mind and seeking out a tiny piece of a map across the entire galaxy, and that was impressive. “What’s it like to do that?” he found himself asking, surprising both himself and Kylo. “Apologies, I know the Force is supposedly ‘beyond me.’” Kylo ignored the sarcasm then, standing and moving to stand behind Hux, a hand on either side of his head. “What are you–”

“Shh. I need to concentrate if I’m to do this.” And with that, despite that Hux had his eyes open and could see his quarters, suddenly he was everywhere but his quarters.

He was on a planet with an atmosphere mostly of Xenon, no oxygen and yet flourishing with life, he was in a total dark cave that was suddenly lit when he came across a bioluminescent insect colony, he was in a forest of trees whose roots alone dwarfed him, he was in prairie grasses that rolled like ocean waves in the wind, he was in a city teeming with civilians. He was travelling faster than should ever be possible through the vacuous expanses of darkness that was space between planets and stars.

He ripped away from Kylo, rubbing his hands together to remind himself that he had a body, to settle himself down, and stared at Ren, who had the good grace to look at little embarrassed. “I should have taken you through a smaller corner of the Galaxy,” he said. “I thought three square parsecs would be small enough.”

Three square parsecs. Was that all? There couldn’t have been more than five star systems there.  And yet Hux had been entirely overwhelmed. And Kylo was searching _every corner of the galaxy on his own._

“Why has Leader Snoke delegated this task to only you?” he asked. “No one person can comb that much space thoroughly on his own. It’s inefficient to depend on one man for this.”

“I can handle more than what I showed you, Hux.”

“Well the larger the area you try to search the less precise you’re going to be!”

Kylo raised a brow, looking endlessly amused as he said, “You’re honestly getting this upset about _precision?_ ”

That was the simple way out of this. Hux was famous for his attention to detail, his insistence on precision and accuracy, he could use that to get out of this. But there was more to it than that.

Six Knights had worked every day on this, and were called back to Snoke’s side, each reaching for Kylo the very second he left their master’s presence. Six Knights were dismissed as falling short, Kylo had leapt to their defense. One man had to take up a mantle that had been borne by six together before him.

Emperor Yun of the Eda Dynasty had gone insane in a search for an elixir of life, drinking mercury in a mad bid to live forever. He had dismissed every servant of the Royal Household and his wife had to hire them back secretly. He was convinced they were at war with neighboring countries and ordered his forces to attack, delegates only from his ministers (half of which were his _infant children_ ) managing to keep the peace. He spoke to the moons and declared that since all four had been in the sky at his birth he was the child of the moons, and denounced his father as false, insisting his mother had been visited by the moons in human form, and that was why none had set while she was in labor.

He was insane and pushed impossible tasks on people, telling them to find one who had never told a lie in their life so he could hear the first dishonesty from their lips and when they replied asking how they could ever know if they had never told a lie he had reportedly cried out “from the callouses of their feet!” and ordered a boat made of white marble like his “heavenly fathers” so he could go out into the sea and make communion with them. His bodyguards had to wear a plume of Kittigat Bird feathers to ward off evil and to prove their loyalty they had to stand still against a wall and let Yun throw knives at them and trust he wouldn’t hit them.

He had been assassinated before the mercury could kill him, historians theorizing that perhaps his own wife had done it.

“Hux, I know your head is always full of those Empires you study,” said Kylo slowly. “But thinking about mad emperors who needed to be killed for their good of their people in relation to the Supreme Leader is something I can’t just ignore.”

“Emperor Yun asked impossible things of those following him and made them put themselves in danger to prove their loyalty. Asking one man to comb the entire galaxy for three pieces of a map is impossible,” said Hux, his voice soft at the realization that what he was saying might just be treasonous.

Kylo tensed, and Hux realized he would be cut down by a lightsaber or perhaps choked to death. He only had a few seconds to prepare himself. What he didn’t expect was for Kylo to take him by the shoulders and say intensely, “You do not understand the Force, Hux. You think it an impossible demand only because you don’t and can’t understand.”

“It seems–”

“ _Seems._ Not _is._ ”  There was an urgency to Kylo’s words that Hux couldn’t discern the meaning of, too wrapped up in what could be the first treasonous thoughts he had ever had. “This is not an impossible demand. The Supreme Leader is wise and he knows the limits of his apprentices. That’s why we’re Ren. You’re just misunderstanding.”

Kylo was _protecting_ him, Hux realized. This rebuke was proof that it was just Hux, Force-blind as he was, who didn’t understand. This was not treason, this was someone who couldn’t realize what was actually at play there. Hux was equally astounded as he was some strange emotion nearing offense. And then something caught his attention.

“You’re Ren? What does that mean?” he asked. “I thought it was a title Snoke gave you and your knights.”

“It is,” agreed Kylo. “We are the Knights of Ren because we _are_ ren. He explained it to us when he created the title.  It comes from a school of philosophy on Kong, it’s the superior person. They honor their master and are above all others. If you want any scholarly articles on it, I suggest you ask your doctoral friends.”

* * *

“Professor Mabun, thank you for meeting with me,” said Hux as soon as the holocall went through.  The Professor on the other side simply smiled and said,

“Of course, General. It’s always a pleasure to speak with you. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you might actually know of anyone who is familiar with the philosophical schools of the planet Kong.” The surprise on Professor Mabun’s face was obvious as he asked,

“Are you looking to be a philosopher as well, General?”

“There’s a certain principle native to Kong that I want to understand a bit more about.”

“I won’t pretend to understand. As it happens, the museum here is having something of an exposition from Kong, I might ask one of the docents about it. This is the first interplanetary exposition between museums, and I do want to thank you for that, General.”

“It wasn’t by my hand that order and interplanetary citizenship was developed, Professor, I was only a child at the time.”

“Perhaps, but you are part of High Command, and it’s thanks to you all that this can be maintained. I remember how things used to be, and no matter that we’re in a wartime military state, knowing that Aman Museum isn’t in danger of being looted by whatever warlord set their sights on Ni’k is a comfort. Have you ever heard of Nar Umen?”

“She was a warlord who was executed in tribunal early in the Order’s jurisdiction,” said Hux, a bit slowly for casting his mind back to the old history lessons from the Academy. “She did have a hold over your system, I believe.”

“And Aman Museum has only taken out some of its finest pieces of art since her death. There’s a statue of the myth of Pius, and is now considered one of the best examples of late Ulanish art, but no one could know about it for the thirty years she had hold over us. I was only just an intern here at the time, but Nar Umen was such a terror that us interns learned about some pieces’ existence simply because of their absence. She looted the museums to decorate her palace, and caused massive damage to a few pieces. The Order has provided us with so much peace, enough that pieces of art are going off world for the very first time, and for that I thank you.”

Hux nodded, accepting the thanks. It was so odd, his childhood had been spent on starships while his father and the other officers started to build the Order and all he had known were the relics of the Empire and its military while the whole of the Unknown Regions had museums and universities, art and music. He had been taught that the First Order was creating unity and a common culture that no one had, but each planet already had vague connections with one another, already had Common Tongue, already had such elements of culture that no one ever mentioned to the children who had fled their homes in the Empire. There were those in Hux’s generation born on those starships that had never even seen actual trees or rain with their own eyes until the Academy was relocated from a starship to an actual planet. Even for Hux, who had some hazy memories of what his life used to be like before they fled, seeing a real city for the first time had been startling and almost terrifying, especially when the First Lieutenant he was walking with pointed to an almost too-opulent building with statues and gilt and said, “That is the National Assembly, built two hundred years ago.” They didn’t have gilt even twenty years ago, how could some planet from a place he had learned from his father was uncivilized have had it two _hundred_ years ago?

Hux spoke Standard first, and was passing conversational in Common Tongue, just like any other officer, but like those who had spent their formative years counting out food and water rations as they tried to hold something nearly like home together, he didn’t feel at ease with the culture of the Unknown Regions, not quite. They were better off than their parents, though. Hux’s father didn’t speak a single word of Common Tongue and adamantly refused to learn.

“As for Kong, you think there will be a philosopher at your museum?” asked Hux. Professor Mabun nodded and said,

“Almost certainly. The cultures of Kong are very different from those of Ni’k, we need various experts to help bridge the distance. I will put you in contact with whoever the philosophical docent from Kong is.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Now is that all?”

“Actually, I did wonder about Emperor Yun’s plan for the floating palace. He designed it before the mercury drove him mad, yes?” It was things like this that had caught Hux’s interest in these ancient kingdoms. Emperor Yun’s floating palace had survived until Ni’k started building starships, he could still find the similarities, and Hux wanted to know everything there was to know about this man who had built such an ingenious design then lost his mind to self-inflicted poison.

* * *

“Have you actually found someone to tell you about the principle of ren?” asked Kylo, rousing from his meditations. Hux had been chewing on the inside of his cheek, seeing the time count down until his agreed meeting and how Kylo just kept not leaving.

“Please stay out of my head,” said Hux only.

“Not my fault you’re projecting at me. You’re better than most though, usually you’re quiet with your thoughts.”

Hux didn’t understand the Force, never would, but he didn’t have time to wonder about loud or quiet. “That aside, I have a meeting with Anointed Icona Liu in five minutes.”

“Anointed? I’m not familiar with the term.”

“From what I understand, Icona Liu is from a culture on Kong that anoints those who have around the same rank as a Professor with some sort of blessed oil. Now if you would kindly leave.”

“The Supreme Leader only ever explained the principle of ren. I would like to know more about the philosophical school it was born from. Kong is very isolated, I’m sure it will be informative.”

Hux didn’t pinch the bridge of his nose because that would be unprofessional and he wasn’t going to do that. Instead he gave a sigh and stared down the Knight that had only just sat back up from his limp sprawl. He gave no indication of leaving, and the look on his face dared Hux to even try and move him. Finally Hux said in a very terse tone, “Anointed Liu is from a culture that finds full holo calls to be distasteful and will be using only an audio call. You can sit in but only if you’re entirely silent. I don’t know what Anointed Liu will say, but please have an inch of respect for someone who actually knows and compares different schools of philosophy and don’t go off or send one of your Knights to kill them if they make some comment you don’t agree with.”

“I won’t kill Anointed Icona Liu nor will I send any of my Knights to kill them,” promised Kylo, sounding far too pleased with himself. Hux nearly had a biting comment, but the call was suddenly put through, and he had to shift his attention to the voice on the other side.

“General Hux? I am Anointed Icona Liu,” they introduced. “I am sorry, I have only simple Standard.”

“I speak Common Tongue,” assured Hux, shifting to the other language. He wondered if Kylo spoke it. He didn’t show any signs of lack of understanding, at least. “If that will make the discussion easier. Simple understanding of a philosophical school is difficult outside of one’s natural language.”

“Thank you General,” said Anointed Icona. “Now Professor Mabun said you have a question for me?”

“Yes, I was wondering, are you familiar with the principle of ren?”

“From Confu philosophy? Yes, of course. Confu Philosophy created the principle of ren, which was described by Confu himself in his work ‘Debates and Thoughts.’ He said that to achieve ren, ‘one should see nothing improper, hear nothing improper, say nothing improper, and do nothing improper.’ It was also described that one who followed the principle raised others when he wished to raise himself, and enlarged others when he wished to be enlarged. It’s both benevolence and the very nature of life. It’s love and respect all in one, recognizing one’s place in a larger connection that unites everyone through links of society so that no one is alone. It’s an inborn quality that everyone has, you cannot learn it, you can only access and understand it.” Kylo stiffened at that, but Hux had let him fall to the back corner of his awareness, focusing instead on what promised to be fascinating conversation.

“And Confu believed in inherent goodness, I take it?”

“Yes, the opposite of the philosophical code of the Order.”

“I beg your pardon?” asked Hux, his voice going very brisk. There was some sort of insult in there, he could feel it. The fact that Anointed Liu refused to call him with a holo like most did prevented him from seeing them, and he wasn’t overly happy about that.

“General, I simply mean that the laws and codes of the First Order tend towards an understanding of inherent evil that must be controlled. Know that Anointeds like myself do tend to apply their fields to the modern times. We would be stagnant otherwise. Laws are clear indications of philosophy, those of the Order are similar to Legalism here on Kong. I am not criticizing the laws, General, I simply mean to say that you must take an opposing stance to understand Confu and his school of thought.”

“I was under the impression that the principle of ren was a superior person. One who was above all others.”

“The phrase Superior Person was used in ‘Debates and Thoughts’ yes, but it isn’t quite what the phrase would suggest. Those who were ren were not _above_ all others, they were what all should aspire to _be_. They were superior in that they had achieved what everyone should seek to achieve, not through inherent superiority.”

“And where does ren fit among the rest of the philosophical school?”

“It’s one of the Five Pillars,” answered Anointed Liu, sounding more and more pleased by how Hux was so interested. “The other four are Yi, Li, Xin, and Zhi. Justice, proper rite, integrity, and knowledge. Those five are the basis of the whole school, and are accompanied by the Four Virtues; loyalty, filial piety, temperance, and righteousness. There are at least a dozen more virtues besides, but those four are the highest.”

Glancing at Kylo, who had gone entirely still over the course of the discussion, Hux said, “No, do go on, what other virtues does one who has achieved ren have?”

“I must say, General, few people outside of Kong have ever showed such an interest in our philosophies. The other virtues are honesty, kindness and forgiveness, shame for misdeeds, judgment, a sense of right and wrong, bravery, gentleness, goodness and kindheartedness, respectfulness, frugality, and modesty.”

And so they talked, Hux listening with great interest as Anointed Liu discussed the sister philosophies and how elements transferred across, how Confu philosophy was almost something of a religion in some places on Kong. Hux offered how the Eda Dynasy of Ni’k seemed to agree on some principles, and Anointed Liu went on to describe how Confu himself had written that all life was born with those principles inside them, granted by a force he never named to be a deity, and how Confu would point to exactly that as proof of his “universal force.”

“The Knights of Ren would argue that was _the_ Force,” said Hux mildly.

“I must admit, General, I don’t actually know anything about the Knights and Supreme Leader’s Force. It’s quite foreign to Kong, and to the majority of Order citizens,” said Anointed Liu. “What with only eight people who can access it. I only know Confu’s.”

The conversation slowed and petered out, and eventually they disconnected, with Anointed Liu assuring that they would be available for all other questions relating to Kong’s philosophical schools. And when the call was done, only then did Hux finally turn back to Kylo, who looked distressed, staring down at his shaking hands as if he didn’t understand why they should be shaking.

“Kylo?” asked Hux cautiously, unsure of how to react. He thought he knew Kylo’s moods, had become quite good at dealing with them even when he was fully masked. But this was a new one.

“My master told us that ren is the person who was above all others and honored their master,” he said. “And Anointed Liu said that was true. But they said ren is gentleness and forgiveness. That ren was the manifestation of virtues, that ren is the center of a web between all life.”  Now the distress was taking on a panicked edge as he looked up at Hux and said, voice shaking, “My master never said that. The Knights remove themselves from that web, we remove ourselves from the rhythms and addictions everyone else has. He said that in doing so, _that_ made us ren. But Anointed Liu has dedicated their life to studying it and they say that ren is everything _but_ that.”

Hux may not have known much about the Force, but Kylo had spoken so forcefully when Hux had doubted, as though the Supreme Leader was there and would strike him down that moment, that surely it was only right to return the favor. He took Kylo’s hands in his, stilling them as he said with a voice similar to that which he ordered his crew with,

“Kylo, you’re a mystic. That’s what you are. A Knight of Ren is a mystic to my understanding. You’re not a philosopher. And you’re only still an apprentice, you’ve told me that. You aren’t going to keep up with philosophy, I didn’t keep up with at least half of what Anointed Liu told me, I had to piece it together best I could and I don’t know if I am putting it together correctly. The Supreme Leader is wise, we both know that, that’s why he _is_ our Supreme Leader. He knows of Confu philosophy, he understands it far better than either you or I who have learned about it only moments ago. You have no reason to doubt him, all you’re doing is overthinking it like you always do. You overthought his order for you to meditate more, you’re doing it again now.”

Whether or not Hux believed a word of what he was saying was beside the point. It was what he was supposed to believe, it was what Kylo _had_ to believe, and for that it was enough. Kylo, for his part, stared at Hux, as if trying to find if he were sincere or not. There was no room for doubt, they couldn’t afford it. Finally, he nodded, and Hux tightened his hold a moment before letting go.

But the doubt was planted in Hux too, even while he refused to admit it. For Snoke to lie so completely about the principle of ren to the Knights who dedicated their whole beings to adhering to it, to lie like Officer Rend, Hux found the seed of doubt was starting to grow, much to his dismay. He couldn’t let it be there, and yet there it was.

Perhaps he should never have started this intellectual pursuit, for both his and Kylo’s sakes.

* * *

“I found one,” said Kylo softly from where he was sprawled. “Neutral zone, on Sargan.” That caught Hux’s attention, looking up from the most recent report from Starkiller.

“You’re certain?” he asked, staring at the limp knight.

“Yes. I can see it. It’s in the home of Count Toggen.”

“Does that mean Count Toggen is a Republic sympathizer?”

“No, but it’s in his home. It was hidden there, he’s not aware of it. I can feel it.”

Hux nodded, and immediately started composing the memo that all _Finalizer_ personnel were to return to the ship immediately as they were to go to Sargan under the Supreme Leader’s orders. If anyone wondered why, the fact that it was an order from Snoke himself would likely placate the. No one else seemed to doubt Snoke like Hux was starting to, no matter how he tried to curb that.

“Are you not going to question me, General?” asked Kylo, sounding almost surprised.

“I remember very well when I came with you on your hunt,” said Hux. “Whether or not I could see as much as you does not change the fact that you certainly were very detailed about searching every planet. I am going to question you going down alone to fetch the map.”

“Do you question my methods?”

“In extraction? Yes. Count Toggen has been…violently neutral. Republic and Order ships are shot down indiscriminately and you storming down there demanding you be able to tear his home apart will not help us at all.”

“Surely he can’t shoot down the Finalizer.”

“There is a set of rings made up entirely of the ships they’ve destroyed. There’s more than a few star destroyers in there. Which is why I am questioning your extraction methods. There is a time and place for force, but sometimes you need _prudence_.”

Kylo was finally sitting up with a sigh and asked, “What are you suggesting?”

“Don’t go down as Supreme Leader Snoke’s primary apprentice. That’s too obvious. Be part of a delegation and then slip away. We’ve tried negotiating with Count Toggen dozens of times and those talks never go anywhere.”

“Are you willing to provide that cover?”

“I was ordered to assist you by the Supreme Leader himself and I obey my orders. Yes, I’m willing to talk in circles with Count Toggen to fulfill Leader Snoke’s orders.” Kylo nodded slowly at that and said,

“How long will it take to get to Sargan?”

“Not long, two days at most. Which gives us time to alert them to our coming to talk, that will keep us from being killed at least.”

Kylo nodded, and was blessedly quiet as Hux began to delegate his forces, assuring them that they were not going to be shot down, composing the message for a vague discussion with Count Toggen, and coordinating with the Admiral-Generals of the Navy to close ranks and make up for the flagship’s movements. High Command had to be informed as well.

Sometimes, Hux wondered if the Supreme Leader realized just how much of an effort obeying his orders really was, simply from an organizational standpoint. 

* * *

 

The shuttle contained Hux, Kylo, and a two other officers for their false discussion with the Count to seem at all plausible. This was an old dance, one that apparently Count Toggen found greatly amusing, if his warm response to let them come to his Brightstone Castle was any indication.

The plan was to discuss, as such attempts always got around to, trading agreements of allowing political neutrality if in exchange they could purchase Talen Ore off the planet. It wasn’t even a false request, they really did need it, and if they just happened to manage to wring an agreement out of the man this time, it would be infinitely helpful alongside Kylo’s search and retrieval of this map fragment.

As they left the Finalizer far outside of orbit (and out of range of the long range weapons that would bring her and all those onboard down), they didn’t have to brace for entry for a long while, all things considered. Plenty of time to see Sargan before them, a beautiful jewel of green and blue with a silver shining set of rings. But as they drew closer, it became clearer and clearer that the rings were entirely wrecks of the ships they had shot down, punctured the hulls of with long distance weapons and left to die.

It was chilling, piloting through the still mostly intact wrecks. Sargan was violently neutral and efficient as anything, a small blow slaughtering every life on board in likely nothing more than a few minutes. There might still be some droids in there, floating around among the bodies of the crews that perished in the vacuum that stole all their oxygen, if some scavenger hadn’t plucked them up and picked the wrecks clean.

How cruel, that Sargan wouldn’t even let anyone come collect the dead. But, thought Hux, it _had_ managed to keep them out of the conflict. And anyway, that was why Shroud Burials had been borrowed from the Eetion culture of Ucalagon.

Beyond the seemingly endless graveyard, the planet was still beautiful as ever, and seeing the planet so peaceful past a vast display of death might have filled a lesser man with apprehension. But Hux hadn’t let himself be intimidated by the vast power that the planet Starkiller Base was built into wielded, he wasn’t going to be intimidated by a planet ruled by a Count who talked them in circles for his own amusement.

“Strap in and brace for entry,” the pilot announced, and all fell to practiced motions. Reentry was never pleasant, to go from the smooth lack of resistance of space to the rough currents of air resistance in the atmosphere was jarring and even still deadly. If some piece of equipment hadn’t been checked, the craft could still blow in the atmosphere. Everyone liked to pride themselves that that wasn’t the case and hadn’t been for as long as anyone could remember, but beneath it everyone knew the dangers. It could still happen and most rational pilots were wary when leaving or entering an atmosphere for that very reason.

Transparisteel was a blessing, but Hux absolutely despised it during entry to planets. Annoyingly, Kylo didn’t seem as bothered as everyone else was by the flickering bands of purple fire that surrounded the craft as it forced its way past the high gases of the atmosphere of Sargan. There were whole ballads written about that flickering fire, some praising its beauty, some equating it to the very air trying to eat the ship, but either way no one was immune to looking at it and seeing how just a few inches of steel were protecting them from such impossible heat.

“Peak heat reached at two thousand four hundred kelvin. All equipment functioning fully. Entering planetside blackout.” They had two minutes where no one on Sardan could monitor their craft. Those two minutes were consistently the longest two minutes anyone could ever experience and this time was no different. Time crept by inch by inch, everyone either staring at the flames that still engulfed their craft or simply staring at the metal surroundings and waiting. “Exiting planetside blackout. Six minutes to landing, estimated one minute to go subsonic.”

“Are we to land at Brightstone Castle?” asked Kylo, sounding miraculously unbothered by the experience.

“Not now,” snapped Hux, listening intently for the next announcement.

From entry to landing was only ten minutes, but it was the longest ten minutes to anyone who had spent the majority of their life on spacecrafts. The Space Children, Hux’s generation was called, those too young to have been Exiles, but too old to be First Generation. Space Children were absolutely famous for not doing well on planets, and while Hux made it a point to force himself to thrive just as much on a planet as on a ship, he did admit that the reputation did hold the smallest amount of water. He never did do as well as the cadets when it came to entering and exiting atmospheres.

“We are subsonic,” announced the pilot calmly, followed by a collective exhale that every passenger would deny heavily to be a sigh of relief. “Slowing further. Calling for permission to land.”

Once planetside flight was fully engaged, Hux allowed himself to turn to Kylo and say, “Yes, Count Toggen might amuse himself with these talks but he can’t exactly let either First Order or Republic forces walk around the City of Vermol.”

“Four minutes to landing.”

“I expect everyone here is ready to deal with the Count?” asked Hux, turning to the two officers he had brought with them, Colonel Leisidh and Major Arding. They had done this at least once before at Hux’s side. “I expect it to be much the same as always.”

The rest of the four minutes went slowly, until the craft finally touched down by Brightstone Castle. It was a fine place, a blocky base with an elegant spire competing with the very mountain it was built upon. The sun was shining off of the spire, lighting it up to shine silver. As it was, Hux never much appreciated architecture and instead walked on legs that he forced to be adjusted to Sargan’s slightly stronger gravity to greet the Count and his entourage. Count Victgilsus Toggen was of a species that was on average seven feet tall, without opposable thumbs but with a poisonous spike on their wrists. They were more at ease walking in a hunch with part of their weight resting on their knuckles, but could walk on only two legs for short spans of time.

Count Toggen was, like most males of his species, the ones that incubated the eggs their children hatched from in an almost pouch under the arm and Hux noted that he had an egg under his left arm as he approached. Odd, Countess Hedwig was too old to have children, he thought.

Custom meant he couldn’t speak first, due to rank, and Count Toggen seemed to be perfectly happy to leave them standing in silence a long time, though Countess Toggen at his side finally sneezed pointedly at her husband, prompting him to say, “General Hux of the First Order. Welcome to Brightstone Castle.”

“Thank you Count Toggen,” said Hux. “We appreciate you agreeing to meet with us. And is it you I should congratulate on the child?”

“Our grandchild, General,” said Countess Toggen. “Our youngest daughter was blessed with a clutch of three, and my husband offered to incubate one for them, as Ottokar didn’t have the room.”

“Then when I see your daughter and son in law I shall congratulate them.”

“You aren’t here to congratulate us on our grandchildren,” said Count Toggen. “Follow inside, we will talk there.” Hux followed, and glanced towards Kylo, surprised that no one had commented on the Knight.

“Don’t talk to me, General,” said Kylo. “I’m tricking every person in this castle into not realizing I’m here. Once we get inside I’m leaving, I’ll wait in the craft when I’m done.”

A fine trick, thought Hux as they followed the Count and Countess into the castle. On the walls hung Sargan Horns, the giant instruments more decorative than functional in Hux’s opinion, next to ancient shields painted with the emblems of Sargan’s many provinces. It was an exercise in showing off both culture and wealth and it didn’t escape Hux that Count Toggen was pointing out that Sargan was perfectly fine on its own.

The course of events was to be the same as always, it seemed, going to the Great Hall to meet with the Count’s family before sitting down to discuss with all of them. Technically, the whole family ruled the planet, but Count Toggen was the one who always took the reins when it came to dealing with the Order, the rest sitting back and just watching him. Kylo had long since parted when they reached the Hall, and that was probably for the best, as when the doors opened it became very clear why Count Toggen had been so accommodating to let Hux and his officers come talk. They would be providing entertainment for the Count and his whole court it seemed, as Senator Estrid Storrada from the New Republic was already there with her aides.

“Senator Storrada was already here and I saw no reason why a neutral planet couldn’t host two delegates at once,” said Count Toggen, sounding far too pleased with himself.

“This should be fun,” sighed Major Arding, speaking in Common Tongue to disguise exactly what she was saying.

“General,” greeted Storrada briskly, her arms folding in her too-elaborate sleeves. “I was not aware you had plans to come to Sargan.”

“Nor I you, Senator,” said Hux, tone matching hers.

Lord Ottokar, who was worrying over the positioning of the incubating eggs, seemed to be smiling a little too much and if there was one thing Hux hated above anything else, it was to be laughed at. He couldn’t do anything to Sargan, but it filled his chest with fury to have even _Lord Otttokar_ laugh at him. Who was Ottokar? The husband of the third daughter of the Count. Lady Sigrdrifa wasn’t set to inherit the mantle of Countess, not unless her two sisters and five brothers all died. She was nothing, in the grand scheme of things, so why should her husband ever think he could laugh at Hux?

“Senator Storrada was here to discuss the possibility for opening up Talen Ore trade,” said Count Toggen, still sounding pleased. “I believe that was why you are here too, General. So I thought ‘we might as well get it all out now’ and I asked the Senator to wait a few days, so that all parties could be present.”

“You did forget to mention who the other party _is,_ ” added Senator Storrada, still staring down Hux. The Count seemed unbothered and gestured for everyone to take their seats.

“General, what about Lord Ren?” asked Colonel Leisidh, wisely speaking in low tones in Common Tongue.

“He will be returning to the shuttle when his business is finished,” replied Hux in the same language and volume as they all sat. “For now, we just have to survive this. We’re here on the Supreme Leader’s orders we aren’t going to beat a retreat the second the Republic shows up.”

Just surviving was probably the best descriptor for what followed by a long run. Count Toggen was playing the Republic off the Order and the same in reverse, and his family was only encouraging him. Colonel Leisidh looked moments from taking one of Senator Storrada’s ridiculously long sleeves and using it to strangle one of her aides who kept scoffing whenever the Order’s representatives spoke. Another aide was glaring such daggers at Hux that he wondered if he had ever personally offended the man or if it was just nationalism rearing its ugly head. It was getting hard to tell, these days.

“Talen Ore is magnificent at holding in radiation that might otherwise hurt a population, and the Republic is planning on using what you might be willing to sell to help secure facilities that work with nuclear power and might be too close to civilian populations. I’m sure the Order will be using it for its other uses,” one of her aides was saying, and the lack of tact made it perfectly clear this was a new one.

“If Madame Senator and her aides had looked into the properties when Talen Ore is smelted with iron, then perhaps they would realize that the properties of the Ore eliminate the need for insulation,” said Colonel Leisidh, the murderous look on his face on barely hidden and daring the aide to scoff _one more time._ “And if Madame Senator and her aides had researched the Order at all they might have realized that under General Yhen of High Command one of the main concerns of our leading council is to provide for its citizens. Whatever Ore the Count is willing to sell would be smelted and put to use creating homes for its citizens in less hospitable areas, both desert and ice.”

“If it is under General Yhen that such projects are carried out, then why is it General _Hux_ sitting with us now?” asked Count Toggen, almost exaggerating his question for the sheer purpose of seeing Senator Storrada’s hackles rise in response.

“That would be because General Yhen is actually at work bettering the lives of the population,” said Hux calmly, seething as he was on the inside. “As both General of High Command and as commanding officer of the Order’s flagship, of course I came in his place. And anyway, the Order is approaching its twenty ninth anniversary of First Accord, and he is rather involved with that.”

“First Accord?” asked Lady Olwen, the eldest daughter.

“When the Exile generation made its first agreement with the first planet,” said Major Arding. “It’s one of the few times a year the Supreme Leader directly addresses the citizens. It’s held on Morpila, it’s very exciting.”

“I’m sure you could find records of every previous First Accord if you were so inclined, Senator,” said Hux calmly, just to watch her jut out her jaw like she tended to do when angry. And if she had figured out his tell of clenching his fists she certainly had made good use of drawing out that tell every three minutes.

And so they talked in circles, Order and Republic sniping at each other like children while Sargan’s Count and court watched with amusement. Hux prided himself on being a calm man, but when an entire planet’s court was laughing at him as he argued with a senator, could he be blamed for perhaps being a bit less than completely patient?

“I simply wonder why a self professed _military state_ wouldn’t even consider military applications of Talen Ore,” said Senator Storrada, folding her hands primly. “It does raise the question of if the Order is being truly forthcoming with its goals.”

If Starkiller was ready, at this point Hux would shoot Storrada down _personally._ And maybe that scoffing aide. The entirety of the Hosnian system surely couldn’t be worse collectively than Senator Estrid Storrada.

“You forget, Senator, that no one has declared war on anyone, there is _conflict_ not war. We are a military state by virtue of the nation’s birth, and as Vetius says, ‘those who want peace should prepare for war,’” said Hux, clenching his own hands to restrain his anger. His legs itched to pace, but if he refused to indulge in that when he was among his own people he’d be damned if he ever indulged in front of a senator from the _Republic_ and the court of _Sargan._

“Vetius?” asked Count Toggen, and that exaggerated tone he had been using to rile both sides up was oddly missing. “Now who is Vetius?”

“A scholar of the ancient J’lean Empire of Yvinia. He wrote a treatise on the tactics of war employed by the King of Kings Seeck.”

“You have grown much wiser since we last met, General. Senator, have you ever met a military man who could quote ancient texts and name the patron of the piece?” Some part of Hux purred deep within to see Senator Storrada jut out her chin and say,

“I must admit, I have not met any general who busies themselves with ancient texts.” But that mood was destroyed when the Countess said,

“General Organa is one of the pillars of Alderaanian culture, is she not? She must be a wealth of knowledge. Perhaps not so ancient, but just as impressive I would say.”

Hux’s fists clenched as Senator Storrada relaxed, saying, “Yes, General Organa has been quite the ambassador for the survival of Alderaan’s culture. The Alderaanian Diaspora has found respect where they have settled, thanks to the General. Though in those instances she does act more as princess than military leader, as her role outside of warfare is more prudent.”

The message was clear. That without this conflict, the Order and all those within it wouldn’t be anything, they had no rank and no credibility outside of ranks they had given themselves where the Republic’s foremost general was the de facto ruler of a diasporic people, but that was worth more than exiles and their children who built what they could. Hux was ready to damn near attack her, if it weren’t for his restraint. Still, Leisidh looked willing to do it for him, should he ask. Arding probably would be more subtle about it than launching herself across the table.

“I must say,” said Count Toggen eventually, “I am getting rather hungry. Hedwig, are you?”

“A bit,” agreed the Countess, and it seemed they would break for lunch. Hopefully Kylo had found that map piece and they could leave soon. But on the other hand Hux categorically refused to run away from dealing with the Republic.

But the count only gestured, and food was brought before them. Of course. So the circus was to continue on, not even a need to stop for a moment. Wonderful.

Sargan cuisine was meat based, and milky in taste. A bad deal for Arding, who was lactose intolerant. Still, the meal wouldn’t cause her anything worse than a mild stomachache by virtue of its preparation, and if her stony glare at the Republic’s representatives said anything she would endure through spite alone. At least the Count was being kind enough to provide them with Sargan's famous absinthe as well. Hux needed that drink to get through the rest of this.

He hadn’t counted on this farce dragging out so long. If Talen Ore wasn’t so desperately valuable for a vast number of the First Order’s projects, Hux would leave Sargan entirely alone. If Kylo wasn’t likely to get himself blown up by the Count’s defense system, Hux would have let him come alone.

There was a pause as the meal was settled before them, and when the absinthe came out so did cultural differences. Countess Toggen was to prepare hers first, using the elaborate fountain of water to drain over a sugar cube that sat on a delicate gold spoon. The rest of the royal family prepared theirs, and only when they were done could the rest turn to theirs. Colonel Leisidh didn’t drink, and offered his glass to the others, which Hux filled with a measure of water. Senator Storrada stared at them, but who cared what she thought? Taking a sugar cube, Hux soaked it with absinthe for a moment before pulling a lighter from his coat to set it aflame, dropping it into the drink. The absinthe was immediately aflame, drawing a few gasps of alarm before Hux poured in the measure of water, putting out the flames and passing the empty glass and lighter to Major Arding to prepare her drink.

“So uncivilized,” murmured one of Storrada’s aides, clearly not meaning to be heard, but Hux turned to them anyway and said, tone chilly,

“I’m sorry, do you have a problem with how we drink our absinthe?”

“Traditional Sarganian Absinthe is to be prepared just as the Countess did. Unless you weren’t paying attention, General?”

“Absinthe is produced across the galaxy. It’s produced in the Order too. If we prepare ours with fire what is it to you?”

“It does seem to be something of a fire hazard,” said Storrada, sipping at her pearly drink.

“Only if one doesn’t know how to prepare it.” Arding, at his side, was already dousing the flames easily, passing Hux his lighter again.

“Sir, permission to strangle the senator or her aide?” asked Colonel Leisidh, speaking in Common Tongue. Hux might have smiled at the dry tone if he were not staring down that very senator. Instead he merely replied in that same language,

“Denied, Colonel. But rest assured the Republic’s opinions on our alcoholic preferences won’t change how we do things.”

“What language is that?” asked Lady Sigrdrifa, sipping her drink with interest.

“Common Tongue, spoken throughout the Western Crescent. Unknown Regions, you would think of them.”

“I think all discussions should be kept in Standard, don’t you, Count?” asked Senator Storrada.

“I must agree,” said Count Toggen, looking delighted by the sniping over even just methods to prepare a drink. “For the benefit of all parties, General.”

“I don’t like Toggen,” muttered Major Arding in Common Tongue before a glance from Hux made the woman sit back and switch back to Standard. Fair enough, few people who dealt with him had any great love for the man, but this was a new form of torture.

“Now that we all have lunch, let’s continue talking. You both have explained why you need Talen Ore, but not how you would protect my planet from being pulled apart to get every last bit. We’re not a Golden Ganzi, you know.”

“Victgilsus, they don’t know the story,” murmured the Countess at his side before subjecting all of them to a _children’s story_ about a Ganzi bird that laid eggs of pure gold once a day, and when the villagers who had profited from it killed it to get all the eggs at once, they found that there were no eggs inside and they lost the treasure forever.

Hux nearly gave permission to Colonel Leisidh to go ahead and strangle that scoffing aide when they praised the story for its wisdom.

* * *

It was nearly night at Brightstone castle when they left, Senator Storrada to her elegant craft and Hux to his own. As predicted, Count Toggen had let them talk in unending circles and take cheap shots at one another, their tongues sharper for the absinthe, before ultimately saying that Sargan would not be taking either of their offers, thanking them for their time, and leaving the room with his youngest daughter and son in law close at his side to check on their egg.

Hux was tired, angry, and seeing Kylo Ren near lounging in the shuttle nearly made him snap. “I sensed Storrada,” said Kylo only. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. After the third hour it became clear you weren’t coming back any time soon, so I went to Vermol and took this. I thought you might need it.” And he produced a large bottle of Sarganian Absinthe, which Hux had full plans on igniting as much as he damn well pleased.

“As General of the First Order I have to lecture you for stealing anything from a neutral planet,” said Hux calmly. “But as someone who spent the last few hours being played for the amusement of a man and his family and court, I’m glad it was alcohol you stole.”

Kylo snorted at that, the sound mangled by the helmet, securing the bottle to not be disturbed in takeoff. “I was successful, by the way.”

“Good. At least something turned out well.”

“General, if you’d strap in, we’ll take off now,” said Captain Bering. Seemed everyone was eager to get off the planet.

Leaving a planet was just as stressful as entering, and the buildup was worse, with having to break the sound barrier instead of descending from it. “One minute to sonic,” came the warning, and all passengers began their huffing breaths to keep themselves from passing out. Except, infuriatingly, Kylo Ren. Kylo didn’t seem at all bothered, and Hux wanted to know why this man thought nothing of entering or exiting a planet’s atmosphere. Hux himself had done it more times than he could count but the stress never went away. Maybe that was born from spending the majority of his formative years in space, like everyone said happened to the Space Children.

A crashing boom signaled their speed had built up, and they could breathe normally again as they built up faster and faster. Still, they were only a few miles off the ground, and the atmosphere on Sargan was thick. Once they were clear they could relax, even unstrap themselves, but damn air resistance put up a fight. They were five minutes into the flight when the radio came to life and said,

“Brightstone Castle to Shuttle FN-005, No Return, copy?”

“Shuttle FN-005 to Brightstone Castle, No Return,” replied Captain Bering. Any attempt to return from this point would be viewed as an attack and they would be shot down. Not that any of them had any intention whatsoever of returning unless they absolutely had to.

Three minutes later, the shaking of the craft began to grow still, and three minutes after that Captain Bering announced, “We are clear of atmosphere on route to Finalizer, ETA nine minutes.”

“You all hate flying,” commented Kylo. At least _he_ was in a good mood.

“I think perhaps we just have greater concern for our lives,” said Hux, unstrapping himself. “Your business was successful?”

“Yes, and I have informed the Supreme Leader. He will want to meet with both of us when we return to the Finalizer, General.” A short nod was Hux’s response, mentally balancing it against when his next shift was on the bridge. Not until the next Standard day, at this point. It didn’t matter, anyway. If the Supreme Leader called, you came and it didn’t matter if you were working at the time or not.

The flight once in space was smooth and fast, even if they had to sail through the graveyard of ships again. Hux actually thought he recognized one of them and quickly turned away. It didn’t do to look at a body and wish to see light in its eyes. Wishes did nothing.

* * *

Hux could honestly say that he had never seen Snoke happy. At least until now. When Kylo revealed that he had managed to retrieve a map part, Hux had the odd experience of actually seeing the man something like pleased.

At least the day was going to turn out something close to alright, if they had made the Supreme Leader happy. Even if it was for a map that led to someone who actually hadn’t caused any trouble in fifteen years, no matter if he apparently called out to the Knights of Ren. What did “calling out” even _mean?_

“You doubt the importance of the map, General?” asked Snoke, turning to him. Hux felt the urge to stand even more at attention, not that it was possible at this point.

“I…I do not _understand_ the importance of the map, Supreme Leader,” said Hux. “Ren has explained that it leads to Luke Skywalker, but if he hasn’t done anything for fifteen years, why the desperate need to find him?”

“It is in the interest of the Knights of Ren. And as the Knights of Ren are the protectors of the Order, then it is in the interest of the Order. That is all you need to know, General.”

The Knights being protectors was only in title, at best. The _actual_ protectors were the military, but if seven Knights who were volatile through self-denial on all fronts were to be named protectors of the Order, so be it. But it was enough of a truth that Hux bowed his head in acceptance, not wishing to question the Supreme Leader, least of all to his face.

“Kylo Ren,” said Snoke, turning back to the Knight. “You have done well. To think, all six of your knights had all worked to find that for months and you managed it in a matter of weeks.” Kylo visibly seemed to shift under the praise, almost puffing himself up, but it deflated suddenly when Snoke continued, “But you have been courting addiction to meditation in your efforts. You must meditate less.”

“You told me that I was to meditate more, to-to find this piece of the map,” said Kylo, sounding clearly uncertain.

“But not to be addicted. Khee and Obsi both are trying to break their addiction to meditation, what example do they have if their leader falls prey to it? I told you to meditate when necessary, not to meditate _more._ ” Kylo bowed his head in acceptance even as a knot began to twist in Hux’s stomach to hear it. He was well aware that the Supreme Leader had said “meditate as much as possible.”

_It’s perfectly bright in here, darling, I’ll show you. Lights, fifty percent. Lights, one hundred percent. See?_

Hux banished that damn play from his mind fast as it came, refusing to dwell on it. He didn’t understand the Force, he had been told that often enough, and it wasn’t his place to question it. So he wouldn’t. Simple as that.

Finally, the Supreme Leader ended the call, and left the two alone in the great cavernous chamber. Kylo was nothing but tension so Hux turned to him as the door closed behind them and in a moment of sympathy offered, “Would you like to spit in the Republic’s face and drink burning Sarganian Absinthe with me?”

“I expect that has something to do with that incredibly long meeting today,” said Kylo, his voice far more guarded than it had been even an hour before. “And no, alcohol is an addictive substance, the Knights are forbidden it.”

“Then will you help me ignite my drink?” Kylo looked at him a long moment before nodding slowly and said something in a language Hux had never heard before. It was vowel heavy and the sounds repeated themselves throughout the phrase.

Kylo caught himself midword, though, and said, “Apologies. I will join you, yes.”

“What language was that?” asked Hux, actually intrigued.

“I don’t actually know. It’s Quen Tor Ren’s native language, I’m talking to him now.”

“In your mind?”

“Yes.” No more was offered, and Hux was left to wonder what they were talking about, but he supposed it didn’t matter. Leading the way back to his quarters, Hux began to wonder instead when he had started being so comfortable with Kylo being in his space. Possibly from that deal he had made and with Snoke’s orders of meditation (and he refused to think about Officer Rend in that damn play at that memory) the increased time they spent together.

Kylo had been altogether less destructive since Snoke had passed down that order, and now that he had rescinded it with this new order to curb his meditation for the benefit of Khee and Obsi Ren, Hux began to worry about his ship again. But now was not the time for it.

Instead, Hux took out a glass and poured in perhaps a little too much absinthe. “Are you familiar with absinthe?” he asked, turning to Kylo, who was pulling off his helmet.

“Not particularly. Alcohol is forbidden to us, and we were all still children when we went to Snoke. My mother drank it sometimes. My father always thought it was too fussy a drink,” he said as he set the heavy helmet aside.

The momentary glimpse into Kylo’s past, small as it was, was a surprise, but Hux merely asked, “How did your mother prepare it?”

“She had some spoon she would pour water over, I think? The last time I saw my mother I was fourteen, Hux, and the last time I spent any significant length of time with her, I was ten. Forgive me if my memory isn’t quite up to speed.”

“So she prepared it in the Sarganian method. Traditional, more commonly drunk in the Republic. It’s no secret you’re from the Republic, Kylo, you didn’t know about First Accord until a few years ago, and every child born in Order space knows about First Accord. We prepare our absinthe differently over here.”

“You did say something about lighting it on fire,” said Kylo dryly, sittng down as Hux collected a small glass of water and found a sugar cube.

“Exactly. We were served absinthe in Castle Brightstone, they did us that hospitality at least, and Senator Storrada and her aides called us uncivilized for preparing it as we knew it. Cooking the absinthe makes for a stronger drink, and adds a flavor that the sugar water doesn’t.” As he spoke, he soaked the cube on a spoon before setting it aflame, making sure it caught. “So I am going to cook this glass as long as I damn well please.”

“And spit in the face of the Republic.”

“As hard as I possibly can,” agreed Hux, dropping the sugar into the drink and watching it burn as he broke apart the cube to spread the sugar through the drink. “Where exactly was the map piece?”

Kylo produced it, a small data stick that didn’t _look_ like it held the key to finding Luke Skywalker. It looked like it would hold administrative files, if anything. Hux had expected something more dramatic, from what he knew about Force Users. “This was hidden in a cache beneath the Bright Stone.”

That sounded more like it. The Bright Stone gave its name to the Castle and was traditionally kissed, forcing those who tried to hang upside down from an impossible angle to reach it. It was difficult even for those of Count Toggen’s species. What the kiss was supposed to achieve, Hux did not know, but the first time he had come to deal with the Count, the man had made Hux kiss the stone, holding his ankles as he dangled over a drop that went down not only the castle but the mountainside as well.

“How did you get it? It’s hard enough to get at to kiss.” As he spoke, Hux poured in the water, putting out the flames and stirring it together, giving the absinthe its pearly quality.

“ _Have_ you kissed the Bright Stone?” the tone was starting to approach something like normal, which was a comfort in the face of Kylo’s clear distress over Snoke’s orders and counsel.

“Once. My first time on Sargan. I was a Major General at the time, coming with General Yhen. Count Toggen thought it great fun to dangle a First Order Officer by his ankles over a three kilometer drop and make him kiss a rock.” There was actually a twitch of a smile on Kylo’s face at that. “I’m so glad you find amusement in that,” he said, sarcasm overflowing from his tone as he took a sip of his drink. Far better than if prepared with those pretentious spoons.

“The Bright Stone is no more easily accessed even with the Force,” said Kylo. “The only thing easier is that you don’t actually need anyone else to hold your ankles. The Force does that.”

“And you reached into the cache and found that?”

“Yes. Easy enough, once you know it’s there. Whoever hid it clearly didn’t expect anyone to ever know the cache was there.”

Hux shook his head. Force Users and their dramatics. “You were speaking to one of your Knights earlier. I expect he was extending congratulations?”

“Petitioning me to explain to our master that he had searched Sargan and hadn’t found it. Asking me to explain how difficult it was to find. Snoke doesn’t forgive mistakes easily.” His voice had grown quiet, and Hux wondered if he thought meditation was a mistake. Kylo must have been listening to his thoughts as he immediately said, “Of course I do, I disobeyed his orders. I interpreted them wrongly and now I fail my master, myself, and my knights. Obsi struggles so much with meditation addiction and I show him that his master is weak?”

“You were following orders,” said Hux, his voice oddly soft, clearing his throat and sipping from his pearly green drink to cover it. He shouldn’t be speaking so softly to _Kylo Ren._

“I meditated too much. I run the risk of addiction, not just indulgence, I have strayed well and far from the path.”

Hux said nothing, unsure what he could say. He didn’t understand the training the Knights underwent, he didn’t have a lick of Force sensitivity, what place did he have in such a conversation? “You know,” he finally said, “First Accord is in two and a half weeks.”

“Yes, and?”

“And as a General of High Command and as the commanding officer of this ship, I am expected to attend. Most of the ship will receive leave that day, and the Stormtroopers will receive a day of rest. I’m expected at the festivities, and General Yhen has been saying that when your Knights began to move through Order space more conspicuously it brings up the morale of the people.”

“Unfortunately, they have gone back to our Master.”

“But _you_ haven’t.”

“Hux, what are you–”

“Lao of the early Eda Dynasty is revered for his masterpiece ‘The Art of War.’ He is still quoted, though few know exactly who he was. I was fascinated by his writings, especially his wisdom to write ‘There is no instance of a country having benefited from prolonged warfare.’ The people need to see an end to this conflict, at least in the distance. And part of that is to see those who lead them partaking in peace just as much as war.”

“And you want me to attend the festivities of First Accord,” finished Kylo, folding his arms as Hux took another drink from his glass.

“The Knights of Ren are titled as the protectors of the Order. But the people so rarely see them, even less than the Supreme Leader. And with the rest of them back with the Supreme Leader…”

“I don’t deal with politicking, Hux. You’ve snapped at me plenty times that I’m at best supercargo on this ship. I’m not part of the Order.”

“You’re part enough. It will help. You don’t have to take off the mask, no one will recognize you if you even do. Just sit with High Command, watch the festivities, salute the Supreme Leader, show off your lightsaber, that will be enough.”

“Have you been think about this a long time?” asked Kylo, raising a brow.

“Long enough.” And if part of that was imagining how Kylo would look speckled with the dyed chalk that Morpilans from the city of Benau tended to throw into the air in celebration, that was beside the point.

“I am not throwing any chalk.”

“You’d look quite fetching, speckled with pink.”

“I hope someone throws some right in your face.” Hux smiled, hiding it behind his glass. At least Kylo wasn’t half so still and silent in realization of Snoke’s orders.

Vaguely, he wondered why he even cared about Kylo’s emotional state. If Kylo was angry or distressed or any other strong emotion he would destroy part of the ship, he rationalized. And that business with the communications hub was reason enough to try and avoid that ever happening again.

“Shall I inform General Yhen that you will be attending?” Kylo rolled his eyes but didn’t say no. That was as close as they were going to get.

* * *

Kylo meditated once a week now, hardly the almost daily bursts he used to maintain. And still they were done in Hux’s quarters in his moments of downtime. But this time, when he roused from his searches, Kylo looked at Hux and said, “You mentioned the Eda Dynasty. Tell me about them.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you just use this meditation as an excuse to grill me about my academic pursuits,” said Hux. “Wait at least a moment, I’ve the rest of this report to deal with before I can amuse you.”

Kylo shrugged languidly, barely moving from his sprawl on the floor. He didn’t quite relax so fully anymore, and that was probably due to the inconsistencies of Snoke’s orders. But Kylo’s habits really weren’t Hux’s to worry about. Signing off on the report, Hux pulled up the folder on his datapad filled with information of the Eda Dynasty. He didn’t think Kylo would be interested in the court records, which was a shame.

“What about the Eda Dynasty do you want to know?” asked Hux, looking down at the Knight.

“Who were they? Where were they from? You spoke about shared values to Confu philosophy, I didn’t miss that,” said Kylo, finally sitting up.

“They were a Dynasty in the southwest of the continent Tarim on the planet Ni’k. They inherited from the Wara Dynasty, took over from them in warfare. They were the last Dynasty, for a long time Ni’k had the planetary council and the Eda Dynasty as the sole two governing bodies. They fell under Emperor T’um, though they were in decline a long time before they fell apart.”

And so Hux found himself going over the basics of the Dynasty, and when he began to talk about the flourishing kennings of the court poetry, Kylo cocked his head and asked, “What is a kenning?”

“A kenning is to name one thing by another. By a series of references, you have to know what they all refer to in order to understand exactly what is being named.” There was no understanding in Kylo’s face so Hux sighed and said, “Here, I’ll show you.” Quickly pulling up one of the first poems he saw he said, “Apparently half the meaning and poetry is lost when translated from Unedan to either Common Tongue or Standard. The Edan court was very fond of puns. This one is a love poem, and the author constantly says ‘I have kissed blood.’” Turning to the poem he read out a few lines, “‘Fire spreads through my soul and ignites me with love, for she with the sky eyes has looked upon me. Oh from lip to lip it flickers and dances, I have kissed blood.’”

“Kissed blood?”

“Through a series of references it means ‘I have fallen in love.’ Apparently. But _that_ is a kenning.”

“How does kissing blood mean _love?_ ”

“I don’t know, Kylo, I’m not an expert in poetry, let alone _Edan court poetry._ I am fascinated with these cultures and I study them, yes, but I _am_ still a General. That is my foremost profession and concern.” In the face of Hux’s sudden snap and sudden use of his name, Kylo was silent, but held out his hand for the datapad. Passing it to him, Hux berated himself for snapping over something so trivial. There was no reason to have reacted like that, none at all.

Kylo was looking at the poem, and at the notes that Professor Mabun had left about the kennings and meanings, and finally said, “Kissing blood, it’s in reference to Orphole and Ci’an, two mythical lovers. They fell in love on the battlefield when they fought each other, at the taste of the other’s blood.”

“Every culture has its oddities,” said Hux. “There is a J’lean myth of a hero who fell in love with his rival the very moment he killed them.”

Kylo looked up at him and said, “That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.” Hux snorted a laugh to hear it before saying,

“You’ve only got one more of these meditations before First Accord. Do you want to spend every moment discussing Edan kennings and mythical lovers?” The look on Kylo’s face was answer enough and Hux took back his datapad and said, “That type of poetry really grew while the Imperial court started to be focused inward, and it led to riots because the Emperor wasn’t caring for his people and was instead writing poetry all day.”

“Was that the fall of the Empire?”

“No, the fall came six hundred years later. This began the Rebellion of the States.” This was history Hux was more comfortable in. Military history. The methods were different by virtue of ancient versus modern methods of war, but the concepts were the same and this he never faltered in like he did other parts of history.

Kylo at least still seemed interested. Until a message came and Hux stood, saying, “I’ve a meeting with General Yhen. Try to not destroy anything in the next week.”

“Such little trust.”

“You’ve not given me much ground to trust you.” Kylo’s response was an easy shrug, the relaxation of meditation still about him as he scooped up his helmet and placed it over his head.

“Until next week, General.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things Hux likes: Space-Confucianism, Space-Bohemian method absinthe  
> Things Hux doesn't like: Space-Switzerland, Space-Blarney Stone, Space-gaslighting, not being allowed to talk smack, and real-world atmospheric entrance
> 
> Well, at least he's got a day off coming up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thanks to everyone who's left kudos or commented, you guys are absolutely wonderful. And secondly, you guys were right, it's time for what more or less equates to Space Holi!

Morpila was something as close to a capital planet as the Order had, for it was with the Morpilans that the First Accord had been made. And once a year, Morpila was full to brimming with citizens come to celebrate that very agreement. Stormtroopers, regarded by most as little more than programmed machines, received a day of rest, were allowed to go without their armor, the officers were given a free day to enjoy the celebration, and the citizens got a holiday.

Benau was, that day, filled with songs, music, dancing, parades, and pageants of all sorts. As a member of High Command, Hux was to sit with the other Generals in a box that overlooked the main square of Benau as the parades passed, and to throw a handful of colored chalk in celebration from time to time.

Restraint was asked of all members of the military, but on First Accord, even the strictest smiled. That much was clear when General Delan smiled to see the wind that plagued that day dusting her fellow Generals with the color that was caught in the wind. Their dress greys were all tinted blue and red from it, but they were a sight better than those below, who were all the colors one could imagine.

Kylo didn’t seem displeased or pleased, and that was perhaps all that could be expected of him, sitting with the Generals and being pointed to by all those below and probably all those who watched the festivities on their holos on different planets. All the Order would see that the Master of the Knights of Ren, the Protector of the Order and Snoke’s own Primary Apprentice was joining them that day to celebrate First Accord.

“Stop looking so smug about my being here,” said Kylo, barely even turning to Hux.

“Apologies, Lord Ren,” said Hux, a smirk on his face as he watched the end of a parade pass. After this, he would make his way through the streets to meet with his parents. He wasn’t looking forward to it all that much, but he so rarely saw them. “But I did have some hand in it. You’ve never come to First Accord before.”

“He’s right,” agreed General Yhen. “I was incredibly surprised when he told me you were to join us, Lord Ren.”

“I had no orders from my master to prevent me from coming,” said Kylo, and were he anyone else, Hux would have snorted to hear it. It almost sounded like Kylo had wanted to come to this holiday in the past. As he spoke, the wind carried towards them another bout of red chalk dust, but while it settled on the rest of them, Kylo remained entirely untouched.

“I’ve heard that you can stop blaster bolts,” commented General Delan dryly, “but I’ve not heard of deflecting chalk dust. Is this a new technique?”

“Same principle applied differently,” dismissed Kylo, watching the last of the parade pass by.

With the parade done, the Generals would disperse, and while Hux would have simply left before, now he turned to Kylo and said, “You agreed to demonstrate your lightsaber, didn’t you?”

“In an hour, yes, before the Supreme Leader’s address,” agreed Kylo.

“Then you have an hour to enjoy the festivities. That’s what the rest of High Command is doing.”

“Hux, I am not going to go dancing in the streets in full armor.”

“Perhaps. But sitting up here while the rest of Command is gone is quite the odd sight. At least walk around. You agreed to come so that the people might see you, let them see you. You needn’t be human to them, only a symbol. If you can walk through those crowds and emerge not covered in chalk, that will be enough for them I think.”

With that, Hux turned and walked away. What Kylo deigned to do or not do was not his concern. Stepping down from the box, Hux found himself in the midst of the celebration. Circle dances were popular on Morpila, in so many styles and variations that he couldn’t name them all, and he found himself skirting the edges of many such dances, and by the time he made it to the hotel his parents were staying at, his hair was already mostly pink, and the back of his neck was bright blue.

At least no one would demand anyone look perfect on First Accord. That was rather the point of the day; a day where no one, not even the military, had to be perfect, and no one was spared from the festivities. High Command suffered through what would be called indignity any other day, and if the songs were more irreverent than usual no one raised a brow.

As it was, the older songs were being sung in the area of the celebration Hux’s parents were in. He remembered those songs from when the Academy, still based on the ship, had had its day off to celebrate the First Accord. They were more formal, less available for the energetic dancing of Morpila, and really only those of the Exile generation sang them anymore, especially with the heavy handed references to that same exile. They didn’t resonate with the younger generations, let alone to those native to the Western Crescent. Still, they were nice to hear again. They were the old celebratory songs of his childhood, and he was fond of them for that.

“All hail to the day that merits more praise than all the rest of the year, and welcome the night that doubles delight as well for the poor as the peer,” sang those who danced those late Imperial dances, stately and elegant but light in the foot. “Good fortune attend each merry man’s friend that doth but the best that he may; forgetting old wrongs with carols and songs to drive the cold exile away!”

Most younger celebrants didn’t bother coming to dance with the Exile Generation, but it didn’t mean that they were exempt from the vibrant traditions. Even as Hux stepped around the dance, a trio of Morpilans were throwing chalk over the dancing crowd, adolescents who clearly found great joy in their little prank on their elders.

And now with his shoulders speckled with green, Hux finally managed to find his parents, his father complaining about the irreverent nature of those adolescents to whoever would hear while his mother, sad eyed as usual when next to her husband, dutifully nodded before seeing him.

“Brendol, darling!” she said, going to him. Chameleon that she was, Mathilde Hux was dressed in the native costume of this corner of Morpila, sliding into the customs and acclimating. It was her great strength, acclimation, and her son had long learned to respect that ability. Seeing her seamlessly move into the culture of any planet they approached had been almost a magic trick, as a child, and now he saw it through adult eyes and was impressed by the fact that she could do it so well.

“Happy First Accord, mother,” he greeted, letting her press a kiss to his cheek, leaving a stain of turquoise.

“And to you, Brendol. Your father’s not happy with the ‘irreverent youth’ again.”

Glancing to where the Commandant was mopping his face clean of green chalk, Brendol merely said, “I can tell.”

“They have no respect!” insisted his father, saluting his son shortly. Brendol did the same, used to never quite dropping rank around his father. He didn’t think they had ever been just father and son before. “When you were their age, you knew how to behave.”

“All due respect, when I was their age I was attending an Academy still very based on a starship. First Accord was still celebrated in the context of the Academy. Are you sure none of the cadets now aren’t doing the same as Morpilan civilians?”

“Brendol, don’t antagonize your father,” sighed Mathilde. “He’s too old to dance, so he’s told me, so that falls to you now.” Such was the solution Mathilde always fell to when a rift threatened to form on First Accord; taking one of them to go dance. Admittedly, it worked nearly every time.

Brendol didn’t like dancing that much, but at least the Late Imperial dances that were so popular among the Exile Generation weren’t so exuberant as those native to Morpila. He wasn’t able to move his body in such fashions as the dances required for the Benau dances, let alone those from other parts of the planet. Late Imperial dances were far easier.

Sliding into the existent dance was easy, simply forming another quartet to add on to the grand circle with another duo. Spinning his mother around and taking hands with her and with this woman he had never met before to the best of his knowledge, it fell into simple muscle memory, and he found his eye caught by a flash of dark hair colored with turquoise chalk drawing fleeting attention. There was no reason to, but still he looked, and he found himself almost… _disappointed_ to see it was simply Shara Kypling, a girl he remembered from that shared childhood on the ship headed to the Unknown Regions. Shara had been perfectly willing to sit with him in some corner of the training hall that had been changed, if somewhat haphazardly, into a communal playing ground for the Exiles to send their children to when they didn’t have the patience to deal with them.

No other child on that ship had been willing to stop running around playing tag to sit with Brendol to play with his atlas but Shara. He shouldn’t be disappointed to see her, he had something near fond memories of her, even if they were colored by his father’s reminders that “no matter if the Kypling family is on our ship; that does not make them our _equals._ ”

But despite the name “social dancing” there wasn’t any opportunity to talk, really, let alone between quartets. Perhaps he could find her later, just to wish her a happy First Accord. If he didn’t have to rush to be present to see Kylo’s saber display. Everyone would be there, so at least walking Shara to see it wouldn’t be too out of the question.

The dance was coming to an end, and his mother kept giving him pointed looks that he wasn’t singing with all the others in the grand circle, and so with a sigh he joined in, if somewhat unwillingly but for reputation, “This time of the year is meant for good cheer when neighbors together meet to sit by the fire with friendly desire each other in love to greet! Old grudges forgot, now put in the pot, all sorrows aside they lay! The old and the young doth carol this song to drive the cold exile away!”

And with a last courtesy twirl, the dance was done. Bowing to his mother and the others in the quartet, Brendol was already bracing himself to go back to where his father stood. Taking his mother’s hand in his, he escorted her away from the dancing ground as another started up and back to his father, now talking to Commandant Mayeul.

“Tell your son that High Command ought just formally declare war and have done with it!” Mayeul was saying. Apparently there had been whiskey punch somewhere, given the high spots of color on his face and way he actually moved his arms to express. Mayeul didn’t do that unless he had a buzz of alcohol in him. “All this dancing…”

“Commandant Mayeul, if you recall all decisions of war are made by the Supreme Leader. High Command only formalizes it,” said Brendol, tone crisp. “I do not have his ear. And if you really dislike dancing no one has forced you to come to Benau.”

“Brendol,” admonished Hux, and Brendol felt that helpless anger bubble up in him that he could still be so reprimanded when he outranked his father and helped lead the nation. It mixed with that seething frustration at being simply Brendol again. He hated being Brendol, just a continuation of his father in all things. _General Hux_ was different, he was different, he was his own man, but to just be _Brendol_ again was one of the things he detested about seeing his parents.

“Commandant,” tried Mathilde, pulling her arm from Brendol’s to go to her husband’s side as she spoke to Mayeul, “my son is right, I’m afraid. Today is First Accord! Imagine declaring war on First Accord, no one would accept it. Today is a day of peace, and we should treat it like one. Surely you remember that first night on Morpila? How can we declare war on a day commemorating that?”

That glorious first night, everyone had heard of it, even if they weren’t there. The night the Accord had been struck, the Morpilan Senate had invited those they had agreed with to a banquet. The first properly cooked food anyone on any ship had eaten in _ages._ There had been traditional dances performed and food from all cultures of Morpila served. Some were so spicy that it had driven grown men to tears, the stories said. The custom of touching the feet of your elders in greeting had been taught, and then the Chair of the Morpilan Senate had declared that that night, all were equal and the custom would be waived, something nearly unheard of before.

The planet of Morpila had only one sentient species, Kinnaras, with the legs and hindquarters of a bird but the upper body of a species that looked very human. They already had had some contact with the Empire and happily accepted those who fled its fall, and that previous contact had been the blessing that the Exiles needed. It had been a first night of peace and joy and each year when they celebrated the First Accord that same night was emulated.

Brendol had been left aboard the ship and had played with his atlas far beyond when he should have gone to bed, that had been his celebration. The nanny droid his parents had left him under the care of had thought him asleep, and hadn’t bothered to check on him.

“We can’t rightly go about this ‘conflict’ forever,” said Hux, turning to his wife. “The _New Republic_ destroyed the Empire in a _conflict_ and I will not let the Order go about its business like the _Rebel Alliance_ did.” Brendol merely raised his chin a fraction of an inch, readying himself for what his father would inevitably ask of him. General Hux may be his own man, but Brendol was expected to be just a continuation of his father, to do exactly as Brendol Hux Sr would do. To follow his orders and be Commandant Hux’s voice in High Command instead of his own. “If it comes to a vote, Brendol, I expect you to vote for war. We have the might and ability.”

“Your father is right,” agreed Mayeul, and if it weren’t First Accord and a day of peace, Brendol would strike him, decorum be damned, for speaking to him like that. He _outranked_ Mayeul, he would be in the right. “If we are to be victorious against the Republic we will not do it in the way they destroyed the Empire. You should take his advice.”

“Thank you, Commandant, I certainly needed you to remind me of filial duty,” said Brendol, anger expressed in dry sarcasm.

“Brendol!” admonished Hux sharply, and Mathilde looked as if she wanted to take him dancing again if only because that was the only cure she knew.

There were those around them who had noted that the youngest General of High Command was there, how could they not? And now they were starting to note the familial argument that was bubbling up, and for those stares alone Brendol allowed himself to be cowed, clenching his fists and breaking eye contact with Mayeul, looking to the ground and letting his head bow only as much as his chin had raised. Mathilde was looking somewhat distressed that people should be witnessing a private disagreement, and relieved when Brendol backed down.

Later, he’d get back at Mayeul for speaking to him like a child. Just not now.

Now he let himself follow his parents and mercifully leave Mayeul behind, heading to one of the quieter corners where the Exiles gathered to eat. Distantly the sound of celebration echoed over them, mixing Morpilan and Imperial music.

“It is lovely to see you, Brendol,” tried Mathilde as they sat beneath a vine covered awning.

“You cannot treat your elders with disrespect,” said Hux pointedly, and Mathilde sighed even as Brendol bristled.

“Father, I outrank Commandant Mayeul,” said Brendol, and if he were Kylo he might just gesture to the medal that marked him as a member of High Command as he spoke. “He only seeks to be promoted to full Admiral by declaring war and you know it.”

“He is also one of the Admirals who refused to bow to the New Republic and commanded the _Mavourneen_ during the Exile. You may be one of those who guide the nation to the Supreme Leader’s word but you are still young and rank does not take the place of experience.”

“Lack of experience?”

“You’ve hardly seen battle, and without a declaration of war you’re not likely to.”

“Father, I command the flagship of the First Order as well as supervise Starkiller Base!”

“And yet you seem to find time for reading stories.” A rivulet of cold water felt like it ran down Brendol’s spine at that, and he went still. True, it wasn’t a secret nor was it even a damning one, but hearing Hux speak like that, he began to wish he had taken measures that his academic interests should remain even more private than they already were. “What General, let alone of High Command, has time to fritter away reading about dead empires?”

“I’m sure it isn’t as bad as all that,” said Mathilde, touching Hux’s arm. “He’s always been so smart, surely you remember how attached he was to that atlas!” Brendol’s face colored to have that brought up. It was one thing to remember childhood attachments to what near equated a comfort object, it was another to have one’s mother bring it up. “I’m certain he hasn’t been neglecting his duties, but just keeping his mind sharp. We should be proud that our son is so smart that not even being a General of High Command is enough for his mind.”

“We should be wondering why he doesn’t spend his time actually leading the nation!”

“Do you want him to work himself to death, Brendol?” snapped Mathilde, surprising both Brendol Sr. and Jr. She never snapped. “Turn him into one of your Stormtroopers? You tried your hardest to turn him into one and he _didn’t_ and now you’re trying to fix it, is that it? My boy played with an atlas and told me a thousand stories about what he saw in there and now he’s a decorated General at age thirty four and is one of the pillars of the nation, but that’s not enough for him so he _keeps learning_ and you want to take that from him and I will not have it!

“Has he spoken to you about what his position entails? He needs to understand the scale of the galaxy and the absolute smallest things about it, as well as the politics of the Order, the cultures of all the planets under its influence, and that’s _not enough_ for him! How is it a failing?”

The outburst left her husband and son in shocked silence, but through Brendol passed a warm whisper of emotion. Mathilde had never been distant on purpose, but as the wife of the Commandant of the _Aggressor_ she had taken on responsibility for the lives of all those on board and assuring their safety as Hux had taken on assuring political alliances alongside the Generals who would one day become High Command. And her one son who was perfectly happy in the care of a droid so long as he had his favorite atlas to play with didn’t need quite the same care as the thousands who occupied the ship. She spent hours carefully calculating A-rations and communicating their stores against those of the other ships, and Brendol had real respect that she had done so well at it, let alone her skill at assimilation so as to soften deals so humans weren’t to simply end up mercenaries at the service of the native peoples. Mathilde Hux and the other spouses of the officers were probably the reason humans could settle into civilian lives and build a nation at all, in Brendol’s opinion.

Still, Hux didn’t seem to appreciate the outburst, given the pinched look on his face even as Mathilde stood and said, “Rumor has it that my son is responsible for Lord Kylo Ren joining us this year, and I have been told that the Supreme Leader’s apprentice will be performing a demonstration of his lightsaber skills and I very much wish to see it. Brendol, darling, I am very proud of you and all you have achieved, and I shall see you at the hotel tonight, husband.” With such a speech, Mathilde gathered her skirts in hand and strode away, leaving father and son to watch her leave.

“Your mother is probably right,” muttered Hux after a while, and Brendol turned to stare at him. It wasn’t like Hux to ever admit any opinion aside from his own was right. “The nation adores you, Brendol. At the Academy, every cadet thinks of me as your father, no longer you as my son.” Brendol couldn’t speak, sent reeling at the thought. That went against just about everything he knew. “Seeking out more knowledge is a sign of a great man.”

“‘A wise man calls himself a fool, a fool calls himself a wise man,’” quoted Brendol, making his father smirk.

“Exactly. But I stand by what I said; the nation comes before you in all things. Do not neglect it for your own interests.”

“Is that why no Stormtrooper is allowed a personality? Their own interests may come first?”

“Exactly. That is not something we can allow. Even in officers. Personal interests are for civilians, Brendol, never forget that. You are a hand of the State, you are the arm of the Supreme Leader, that is all any of us are.”

Brendol nodded, looking down at his lap. Honestly, this was a friendly conversation with his father, compared to a few others he had had. Still, the constant heavy-handed reminders that he was just a cog in the machine really managed to distract from the whole “seeking out knowledge is a sign of a great man” part of the discussion. But that just was how things were with his father; praise one moment criticism the next.

“Excuse me, father,” he finally said. “High Command is expected to be present at Lord Ren’s demonstration.”

“From what I’ve heard of how he handles that weapon _no one_ should be present,” scoffed Hux, but he waved his hand in dismissal, standing to salute his son.

They really weren’t ever going to be just father and son, were they?

Brendol left the quieter area, pretending best he could that no one was staring at him because of Mathilde’s lecture. Surely they were, she hadn’t seemed to put much thought into being quiet about it. But few people really were quiet when they got angry enough.

As he left, passing under a vine covered trellis that marked that quiet area that was a café most days when it wasn’t a national holiday, he nearly walked directly into Shara Kypling, much to his surprise as well as hers.

“Brendol!” she gasped, her neck streaked with red and her hair still turquoise. “I mean, General, sorry.” At her apology, she seemed to remember the custom of Benau, and knelt to touch his feet a moment.

“Shara,” he returned. “Miss Kypling, happy First Accord.”

“And to you as well! I haven’t seen you in ages, how are you? I saw it on the holo when you got promoted to High Command, congratulations for that.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ve come a long way from sitting in the corner of that play room with your atlas. I expect you’ve actually been all those places now.”

“It was an Imperial atlas, at least half those worlds are in Republic Space.”

“Someday,” she said with all the assurance of the world, smiling up at him. She had grown up well, and Brendol was happy to see her, even if it was odd to see her wearing Morpilan clothes when in all his memories she wore Imperial frocks. Odder still that her hair should be bound up when he remembered her with two twin braids hanging over her shoulders.

“Lord Ren is to demonstrate his lightsaber soon,” he found himself saying.

“Yes, it’s all anyone’s been talking about. I’d very much like to see it.”

“May I walk you?” Shara looked surprised, bushy brows raising over brown eyes, but she nodded all the same, and slipped her arm through his offered one. “You’re able to keep tabs on me, but I have no idea what you’ve been up to since your family left the Aggressor.”

“We’ve settled on Morpila. Father still works as a communications specialist, mother works in a biolab making medicine and trying to make those awful A-rations taste like something, and do you remember my little brother?”

“No, not really.”

“I can’t expect you to, Vasco was only a baby when we were kids. He’s joined the army, you know. He was so hoping to get a posting on the Finalizer, or on Starkiller. I think he was hoping for that simply because no one on Morpila really knows what Starkiller _is_ and we’re desperately curious.”

“If you think because we were friends as children I am going to tell you about classified military projects, you are going to be very disappointed,” said Brendol, startling Shara into a laugh. Her voice was a mellow alto, but her laugh hadn’t seemed to drop since they were children, still ringing high in the nose. “Also you never answered me, you only told me what your family does, not yourself.”

“Oh, I suppose you’re right. I actually work at an interspecies Ecole here on Morpila, in the suburbs of Benau. A bilingual one, the morning we speak Standard and the afternoon we speak Common Tongue.”

“That’s standard practice, isn’t it?”

“In a sense. It varies from Ecole to Ecole, some prioritize one language more than the other, but we do try and keep it equal. And you’re very lucky you only ran into me now, or I would have invoked childhood friendship and made you come see the children putting on their pageant.” He tried to put a polite look on his face, but Shara just laughed and said, “Well if that’s the face you make, clearly I shouldn’t! Don’t worry, I understand. Not everyone’s for children. You never have been, not even when you were one.”

What was there to say to that? That he had wanted to go play with the others but his father disapproved of at least half the families that had gotten onboard? That he listened his whole life about “wastes of energy” and the only games he _could_ play were with an _atlas?_ That those first years before anyone was allowed to settle on a planet had irrevocably marked him to be different from every other child in his generation and he had nearly cried the day Shara and her family left the _Aggressor_ because she had been his only friend?

No, those were memories never to be shared short of a Force User prying them from his skull. Instead, he just placed his hand over hers and said, “You know, technically Lord Ren and I are co-commanders of the Finalizer.”

“Really?” she asked, interest piqued and he was almost sad to let the topic turn towards his own profession. He didn’t like children, no, but there was something oddly comforting to hear someone talking about simply working at a suburban Ecole when he had to deal with the Supreme Leader and the Knights of Ren and impossible weapons every other day of his life.

“Yes, and I’ll tell you a secret. He’s not even fully trained.”

“We all know the Knights are the apprentices of the Supreme Leader,” scolded Shara, but her eyes were amused as they walked.

“Yes but you’ll forget that as soon as you see him fight. But remember, he’s still training.”

“I expect you’ve seen him training?”

“Once or twice,” he offered, instead of explaining his destructive tendencies. Shara didn’t need to know about that business with outgoing transmissions.

They were skirting around something that could either be a minor performance or just another dance, and Brendol couldn’t quite tell from the song that was rising up from it, though the yellow chalk that sprinkled over both him and Shara was to be expected. Maker, it was lucky his dress uniform was so rarely used in the scheme of things, all this would take multiple washes, even by the droids.

“Do you speak the language here in Benau?” asked Brendol.

“More or less,” said Shara. “I’ve had to become trilingual to survive here. In the suburbs, people do primarily speak Bhāșe.”

“What are they singing?” At the question, Shara turned to him, clear surprise on her face. “I’ve found myself becoming casually academic recently, indulge me.”

“As the General orders,” she said easily, before tilting her head to listen to the rousing chorus that was sung by the dancing men. That was good to hear, that title. He preferred being General to being Brendol by far. “Mind you, I don’t actually speak Bhāșe all that well, but to the best of my understanding they are singing ‘let the drums beat and cymbals ring, let us sing for this joyous day.’ There’s a lot of colors in there too, I learned those from the kids. Probably about the chalk. Remember Bhāșe is my _third_ language, so don’t go court martialing me if I’ve gotten it wrong.”

“I can’t court martial you, you’re a teacher, not an officer.”

“In a _military state,_ Brendol. You could probably find a way.” By then they had reached the grand public square that Kylo was to demonstrate in, and Shara seemed to actually see someone she knew, her free arm reaching high above her head to wave. She turned to him then and said, “I never would do this to any General of High Command but I would do this for a friend I fled the Empire with as children, so be strong and get through this, Brendol.” Standing up on the balls of her feet Shara left a kiss on his cheek, fleeting and fond before saying, “Next time you’re in Benau, feel free to come visit. I’m sure my Ecole would happily welcome you.”

“I might keep in better touch with you, Shara, but I think your Ecole will have to pass on getting a visit.” Shara laughed at that, and quickly gave him her communications address, before slipping off to meet up with a Kinnara woman with white feathers colored every possible color from the day.

Turning, Brendol returned to that box where High Command sat, and found General Sen with a kerchief trying to mop clean his face. All he seemed to really be doing was spread the color around a bit more creatively, so stained was the kerchief. “General Sen,” he greeted, bowing his head.

“General Hux, how are your parents?” asked General Sen.

“Same as ever, I think,” said Hux, quietly grateful to be able to be someone other than Brendol. He did like Shara, but someone who knew him only as a child certainly wasn’t going to let him be anything but his childhood self, much as she tried to respect his title.

Soon, all of High Command was together, with one empty seat where Kylo Ren usually was. Instead, he was on a raised platform in the center of the great square, large, with an odd track set up along it. All around, people pressed and gathered close as they could, wanting to see their Leader’s primary apprentice.

“Someone’s going to get hurt,” sighed Hux, looking down at how close they came.

“If Lord Ren injures anyone, civilian or otherwise, on First Accord I will take it to Leader Snoke myself,” vowed General Xiu, and Hux raised a brow at that, but turned to watch Kylo place a tall thick piece of piping on some trolley on the track.

“Do you have any idea what exactly he is doing?” asked Sen, starting to look almost concerned.

“None whatsoever,” Hux had to admit. Finally though, Kylo seemed content, and turned his attention to the millions gathered and the millions watching.

He said nothing, but simply bowed to them all, before taking his saber from his belt and waving his hand, the piping on the trolley beginning to spin around the platform, speeding up faster and faster until it was practically a blur. Only then did he ignite his blade, audible gasps of admiration and shock rising up from the crowd.

And with a moment more, Kylo began his display.

The majority of work with a lightsaber that Hux had seen was its destruction of his ship. Therefore, he disliked it as a rule. But this was controlled practice, this was a moving target spinning around impossibly fast, and Hux found himself how he’d manage to hit it. His answer was soon found in the moment Kylo began to move.

Kylo had a stomping lope of a gait, loud and announcing of just where he was. And that didn’t go away with fighting. He was silent, but his actions spoke loud enough. The saber spun in his hand as he spun and swung, all his force behind it, the circular motions like the careful carvings Hux had seen in Aman Museum of dancing warriors, though he didn’t know their culture or history.

There was brutality in Kylo’s movements, almost wild and yet with every swing, a new piece of the target was cut off, still moving so rapidly it should have been impossible to hit. This wasn’t uncontrolled, this was deliberate and deadly and yet it looked so wild that no one facing against him could possibly manage to expect any of the coming blows and with such strength that no one could deflect them.

It was terrifying, it was awe inspiring, it was impossible to look away from. And not a single piece of the piping flew anywhere but into a neat stack, reconstructing the piping from where Kylo was directing it. _This,_ Hux thought, _this should have been how Kylo had displayed himself in those first days onboard the Finalizer._

Kylo finally let out a war cry and struck down with all his force (and possibly with the Force as well), striking not only the rest of the piping clean in two, but the same for the trolley, leaving him standing untouched in his black robes among a sea of color, distant music carrying over the crowd that was stunned silent by the display. And then all at once, they cheered, amazed and heartened that this man was their Protector, was their Leader’s apprentice, was clear proof of Snoke’s might and power.

Honestly, thought Hux as he applauded, that might have been the only reason that Kylo agreed to come.

The crowds parted like curtains, all in awe but not daring be in his way, still cheering for the Knight as he walked through celebratory handfuls of chalk without a speck of it resting on him. Soon he was among High Command again, who saluted his arrival as he sat among them, waiting for Snoke’s address that was to soon follow.

“If you conduct yourself like that more often, I might be impressed,” said Hux calmly, and Kylo scoffed, the noise mangled by the vocoder. But he was soon drawn into interested conversation with the other Generals, and Hux made a point to look interested, if only for those who might see.

It wasn’t long before Snoke’s address, and as they drew closer and closer to the appointed time, the platform Kylo had been on was replaced with workings for a holographic transmission, and the crowd began to buzz with excitement.

Snoke rarely ever directly addressed the citizens that seeing him was like nearly seeing a deity, much like the old King of Kings on Yvinia. It was almost effortless propaganda, and Hux would have been just as easily enchanted had he not managed to climb the ranks to the highest council in the Order. The Knights might be the scourge in Snoke’s hand, but High Command was the very hand itself.

Across the Order, Hux knew, billions crowded around their holos to see it, those who couldn’t come to Morpila. In public bars and private homes, everyone waited to see their Leader. And probably the Republic too, if they could manage to intercept it and get a translator for Common Tongue, looking to see damning proof that the Order was the evil they claimed.

Finally, Snoke did appear, the holo the usual height for the benefit of the millions who crowded into Morpila and for the benefit of his own image. At his appearance, the crowds cheered and uncountable handfuls of chalk were flung up, so happy to see him as High Command saluted as one, and as Kylo sank to one knee, an open palm held towards the man with his head bowed. All greeted him in their own ways, and quieted when Snoke held up his hand.

Total silence filled the square as they listened for him to start speaking. Looking out over the crowds, Snoke opened his mouth and began to speak, his voice imposing but not cruel. Soft, but never weak. He was the Supreme Leader, and every part of him reflected that. “My people,” he said. “I greet you on this twenty ninth anniversary of the First Accord. Twenty nine years ago the Exiles of the Empire made an agreement with the Council of Morpila. The Morpilans welcomed them, and with that agreement the base of the Order was founded, the first agreement of what would become our great nation.

“In this Western Crescent, we have built Order, created worlds worth living in. You have put your faith in me, and together we have built something wonderful. Our armies spread order and justice, my Knights protect you where the army can’t. We are in harmony here, and together we thrive.

“I reflect on when I became your Supreme Leader. What a dear fledgling nation you were, my people. Just a few years old, trying to spread your wings and fly too early, I reached out my hands and caught you when you fell from your nest. The cursed warlord Manon, he was right to fear you, right to realize the great power you would be, and tried to crush you before you could crush him. What a mighty people you were, I saw. Such a young Order, only two systems large, but you put up such a fight. The deaths were a tragedy, to see so many die to keep the Order alive, but they are our heroes for sacrificing their very lives for the life of this great nation.

“When I came to help, you were never failing. I saw that. You would have defeated him, but with too many deaths. So I came to help, came to catch that little bird trying to fight a larger predator. You could flutter, but not yet fly. So I helped with Manon, and you asked me to guide you, to reach out my hand when needed, and I accepted. I accepted and I watched that fledgling grow. When I came to you, you could not yet fly, but now…now you can _soar._ ”

It was much the same speech he gave every year, but it was still a good one all the same. Less reverent people sometimes joked that Snoke was a false idol created by High Command, but no one but Snoke could say such a speech as to rouse the people to the cause, to harken back to the Exiles and their history as well as uphold the native planets to the Western Crescent. Snoke must spend all year writing these First Accord speeches for how well he encapsulated all the varying people into one, uniting those who had been part of the Order from the beginning to planets that only joined them that year.

But as always, it came to an end. “I salute you, my people, and I send myself out to you. No matter the trials, know that I am there in spirit with you. My hand waits to reach out, my arms to embrace you, and the moment you are in need, I shall come. Keep the watch, keep the flame, and together we shall prevail. Hail to the Order and hail to you, my people.”

The holo disconnected, and among the cheering masses of thrown colored chalk music and songs started up again. It was to be halfway to anarchy for the rest of the day, with the festivities officially only ending at sunrise the next day.

Hux had no intention of staying quite that long.

* * *

After dinner with the rest of High Command, a more stoic affair but damn near casual when it came to High Command, Hux found his eye caught by that same white and black, and turned, half hoping to see Shara again. Instead, watching a circle dance comprised of at least three different species, was Kylo Ren, splashed with color.

Where had he even gotten those civilian clothes?

Kylo turned to him then, and Hux had a feeling he had heard his thoughts, and across the crowds actually smiled, a rogue quirk to his lips before turning and moving deeper into the celebrating crowds. There was a reason Hux went after him. There certainly was. He was just too concerned with actually getting through the crowds to catch Kylo at that moment.

Finally he caught up to Kylo near a stand selling chilled wine. This late in the day, no one really was paying mind that Hux was a General, and his uniform was so splashed with color that the medals that marked him more or less just blended in at this point. To the passing glances, he was just another soldier.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, catching Kylo’s elbow.

“Attending First Accord, same as anyone,” replied Kylo, raising a brow. He looked as relaxed as meditation usually made him and Hux could only wonder as to why.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get addicted?”

“It’s impossible to get addicted to something I’ll have only once.” There were at least a few hundred medical professionals who would disagree with that using factual evidence, but Hux didn’t want to fight it.

“Then are you enjoying your time here?”

“I am,” admitted Kylo, before that same quirk took his face and he said, “But there is one thing I was hoping for today.”

“And what is that?” asked Hux, not actually all that curious. His answer came when Kylo took a handful of chalk and threw it directly into his face. Spluttering and trying to wipe the pink away, he saw the Knight taking off running and gave chase, dodging around celebrants in his pursuit. What he was going to do when he _caught_ Kylo, he wasn’t too sure about. All he knew was the Knight was acting like a complete _child_ and he wasn’t about to indulge him.

If chasing after him was indulgence, Hux wasn’t going to think that much about it.

There was a circle dance that Kylo was making his way around, and Hux hurried around in the other direction, catching up to him just as he was entering the crowds mostly of Kinnaras. The only grip he could get was around Kylo’s waist, but still he managed to pull him to a stop, just nearby one of the many tables where large bowls of colored chalk was, ready to be gathered and thrown.

“You assaulted a General of High Command,” said Hux.

“If throwing chalk is assault, you’re going to be pursuing court cases for years,” said Kylo, gesturing to the color that was all across him. “Besides, this is the only color you’re going to get, staying on the Finalizer all the time.”

“I am making the decision to ignore your attempt at humor and ask you just what you were thinking to do that.”

Kylo gave him an amused regard and said, “Don’t you remember I said I hoped someone would throw chalk in your face?”

“You are an absolute _child_ ,” groaned Hux, a hand nearly reaching to pinch his brow, but diverted at the last second to take a kerchief from his breast pocket, starting to mop at his face. It was for naught, but the attempt was important.

“You realize you’re only staining your kerchief, you’re not actually helping.”

“Right, because I’m going to listen to the man who decided to throw chalk in my face.”

Kylo snorted and turned to watch the dance nearby. It was from a culture from the southwest, one that was fast and full of clapping, sung in a language Hux couldn’t even recognize. It would be impossible for a human to dance it, requiring the use of the avian half of a Kinnara’s body, and impossible to sing, requiring the chirping cries of the avian half of a Kinnara’s vocal cords. “I think I understand why Master Snoke forbade us from mingling with civilians, especially on holidays,” he said, and Hux turned to him, brow furrowed. “Today is an indulgence, I’m never going to have it again, but I already want to.”

“There are comforts in civilian life we aren’t allowed,” said Hux slowly. Somehow though, he didn’t think Kylo was talking about being able to sleep in and casual clothing.

“There are comforts in lives that aren’t those of a Knight of Ren,” corrected Kylo softly, voice almost lost under the celebration around them. “These people…they can dress as they want, do as they want…I will be fasting when we return to the ship. I stray too far from my prescribed path. I find myself wanting things I cannot have.”

“Fast…you are not starving yourself, I refuse to let anyone starve themselves on my ship.”

“Such interest in my habits.”

“More concern that you’re going to get yourself killed.” _And I’ll have to deal with the aftermath._ “You say you find yourself wanting what you cannot have and you say you’ll be fasting. You know it isn’t an inherent crime to want to eat Kalputi.”

“I’m not desiring a fish head, Hux.” He was already making to reply, folding up the kerchief after giving up, when Kylo suddenly pressed forward and pressed their lips together for only a moment or two, staining the knight’s full lips with the remnants of the pink chalk. “I have kissed blood, today.”

The Edan kenning felt like a blow to the face, and Hux could only stare as so much slotted into place. Kylo inserting himself into Hux’s life, insisting on spending far too much time with him, listening to him talk about his academic pursuits, spending nearly every free moment in Hux’s front room with him, _protecting him_ when he thoughts veered too close to treasonous.

“You…”

“I felt when you met that woman from your childhood. I won’t do anything.”

“ _Shara?_ Shara Kypling? You think…” he trailed off with a laugh, almost giddy for how strange this whole situation was. “She works at an Ecole.”

“You’re at your happiest when you’re talking to those professors and reading about the history of those empires, I feel it. She’s a teacher, they translate to each other.”

“Kylo, did you hear me? Shara works at an _Ecole._ That’s the first school a child goes to, they’re all between ages four and ten there. The most complicated thing she teaches is _long division._ ”

Kylo hadn’t seemed to know that, and there was a sudden sort of spark in him, a flaring of cautious hope and Hux honestly couldn’t say if it was welcome or not. “So you…you don’t want someone like her. A civilian.”

“There are such things as military fraternization laws, you know that?”

“I’m not in the military, not officially.”

“Typical, depending on loopholes,” scoffed Hux, but there was that roguish twist to Kylo’s smile again, and maybe it was good that his face was still covered in pink.

A stray memory floated up from when he had been at his mother’s side at some point on the _Aggressor._ She was amused that two people had been lead to fall in love just by being told by a third party that the other one liked them, and told him, “People love to be loved, and being loved can be enough that they start loving back.”

He always thought his mother was wise. He just wished she wasn’t, sometimes.

“You say you’re going to fast because of wanting what you can’t have, and then seconds later you tell me you…you’ve kissed blood. I know consistency is beyond you, but have a thought to what you say.”

“You seem amenable,” said Kylo, but his tone was starting to sound unsure.

“I have just had chalk thrown in my face and then had it kissed off my lips by someone who says they need to fast because they wanted to kiss me, I like to think I’m allowed to be a little confused.”

“The Knights, we…we have to be careful of addiction, you know that. But connections like this…aren’t technically forbidden. Love brought my grandfather to the Dark, after all. But it _is_ forbidden for us to pine. We can have something, but we cannot _want_ it. If you are something I cannot have, then I will fast and I will take on trials to purge myself because I cannot spend time wishing to have you. But if you are, then I need only reflect that First Accord is something I will only ever have once.”

“Firstly, I am not something that can be _had_ and I resent being addressed as such,” said Hux. “Secondly, you are not going to be fasting _or_ purging on my ship, you’re going to kill yourself if you do and then I’ll have to deal with that.”

“Are you–”

“ _Thirdly,_ you are making plenty assumptions about this all being about you.” He had seen his mother’s sad eyes just earlier that same day, after all. Unions when all the power was one person’s ended with those sad eyes. “You can’t _have_ me and if you assume that you come before me I would like to remind you that we are _joint_ commanders. You’re not before me in anything. And for that matter, this is not a conversation to be having in the middle of First Accord.”

“This is the only time I can talk about it. Today is an indulgence, I’m allowed things I am not otherwise.”

Hux stared at him, listening to the celebrations happening around them as the Morpilans sang and danced, thinking about how Kylo showed his love. There were worse things than having someone protect you from treasonous thoughts and listen to your interests.

Fisting his hand in Kylo’s shirt, Hux had a moment to see the mild panic on Kylo’s face and was extremely gratified to see it even as he pulled the man down the scant inches Kylo was taller than himself and kissed the pink back off Kylo’s lips. As he did, he could feel the stuttering rush of air out of Kylo’s nose rush against the bow of his lip, as if the man hadn’t expected him to do anything but punch him.

The moment he tried to pull away, Kylo was grasping his shoulders and pulling him in tighter, refusing to let him go. Those around them whistled and cheered to see it without knowing who they were, and there was something gratifying in that anonymous congratulations. It was considered good luck to declare love or be engaged on First Accord, and maybe Kylo knew that, but it was hard to know with him. Still, those around were happy for them for that alone, and much as Hux hated the idea of being forgotten, there was something oddly nice about being just another citizen.

Finally, Kylo let them separate, their lips tinted with pink in equal measure and golden chalk dusting their shoulders from some congratulatory handful thrown over them.

“I am not staying until dawn. Today is the day off, I don’t get tomorrow free,” said Hux. “I’m going back to the ship, do what you like. But we are going to talk about this.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Put on your robe first, at least try and keep things subtle for now.”

* * *

The pilot of the shuttle that brought Hux back to the _Finalizer_ knew better than to wonder why his General was covered with colors, especially when he himself was so colored. And that was a good thing, not questioning why the pink on the General’s face was so smeared and inconsistent around the mouth. Wiping his face clean, Hux reflected that if rumors began to spread, at least he knew who was at fault for that.

Leaving the atmosphere was as stressful as always, and when he reached the privacy of his quarters, there was an almost visceral enjoyment of sending his dress uniform to be cleaned and to step into the sonic and let the colors be cleansed from his skin. He enjoyed First Accord as much as anyone else, but sometimes he wished there was not that cultural tradition of chalk.

His own coloring could be seen again, and that was a relief, dressing himself in loose sleeping clothes and picking up his data pad. No urgent messages, that was to be expected, but just a route message from the helmsman and Navigations about signing off for the return to Starkiller. They weren’t technically needed elsewhere, and since Hux was the one in charge of the weapon he was expected to be there above anywhere else.

There were also wishes of happy First Accord from Professor Mabun, Dr. Riil, and even from Anointed Liu to his surprise. They were simple greetings, but he enjoyed them all the same. He may hate being just Brendol, but that did not exclude that he enjoyed that he was viewed as a man by these intellectuals just as much as being a General.

As he wrote back to them, typing out greetings more sincere than he would have offered to anyone else, Hux turned his thoughts to the sudden revelation of what Kylo had told him, among the crowds that probably were still celebrating far, far below him.

Having such a powerful man in love with him was…not unappealing. From a pragmatic point of view, Kylo’s devotion would be good. It might _finally_ get the man under control, or at least as much as was possible considering the man’s training and all. He’d have a measure of control over one of the most powerful men in the galaxy, and that was appealing.

Pragmatically at least.

But things didn’t work like that in real life. His instinct was to take all the control he could, especially against a man who could invade his mind whenever he felt like it. He had seen Kylo’s abilities, he wanted as much control as he could so they wouldn’t turn around on him. But he had seen his mother shout at his father just a few hours previous, and even mice can roar. And when that roaring mouse already had a habit of choking those around it with a mystic power no one could fight, perhaps his instincts should be discarded, at least for the moment.

Typing out a response to Dr. Riil, he let himself mull over the situation before him. Kylo loved him, apparently, and demanded that he either accept and let himself be had or deny it so he could purge himself of that love. All or nothing. If he had ever imagined what someone declaring their love for him would be like, it certainly didn’t involve _fasting to forget about him if he said no._

As it was, there was no time to think about what he might have imagined, instead focusing on what had _actually_ happened. On how Kylo had forced himself into Hux’s life slowly but surely to the point where he didn’t immediately recoil at the idea of his presence. Which was impressive, all things considered. Still, that didn’t do much to endear him to the idea of being _had._

“Honestly,” he sighed out loud, even as he sent the greeting back to the doctor. Had Kylo even thought about how someone would react to that? Likely not, knowing the Knight.

And yet, there were worse ways to be treated. Kylo had shown genuine interest in his academic studies, even if he was plenty clumsy about it, and remembering that after his father had dismissed it as simply “reading stories” was rather gratifying. The primary apprentice of the Supreme Leader himself had sat with him and listened to him describe the concerns of a system of government long dead and he hadn’t once gotten bored or dismissed it. There was something in that, a small flicker of warmth that it lent, and much as he didn’t want to he turned to it, wondering what exactly it was.

It was something close to what he remembered feeling as a child when Shara had come to sit with him a second time, realizing that someone liked him, that it hadn’t been anomaly that they would spend time with him. It was the feeling that had made him think it a good idea to agree even marginally to what Kylo had proposed, to kiss him among thousands down in Benau. It was something he didn’t really understand. Shara had been a friend but it wasn’t friendship he felt towards Kylo even if they had been friendly the last few weeks.

Companionship, he realized, staring down at his stuttering attempts to write to Shara. It was the feeling of companionship, of simply knowing that he wasn’t _alone._ It was why he had nearly cried when the Kypling family had gone to settle on Morpila, it was why he had let Kylo worm his way into his life. He had his fill of loneliness and that someone liked him and wanted to seek him out and spend time with him…it was oddly gratifying.

But jumping at that emotion when it appeared was dangerous. He didn’t know what Kylo was getting out of all of this, and that made it dangerous. If he had learned anything from his time dealing with Kylo, it was that it was desperately necessary to understand as much as he could about the Knight’s current whim if only to just keep things under control and keep his ship from being destroyed.

This time, though, things were dire. Because now _he_ might be what was getting destroyed. Neither of them could be the roaring mouse he had seen in his mother that day, that led to assured destruction, not just for each other but for anyone in the blast zone. And damn if his father’s words hadn’t invaded his psyche, but the state and those under his command came before himself. If it were to destroy those around them he would not do it.

He continued to turn it over in his mind until he heard the chime that said someone was at his door requesting entry. He wasn’t surprised when he opened it to see Kylo there. Nor was he surprised that when the man removed his helmet he hadn’t bothered to clean himself up, lips still smudged with pink.

“You’ve been thinking very hard about this,” said Kylo, his tone hallway to accusatory, and it made Hux bristle.

“I have full right to,” he defended. “I have no idea what you expect to get out of this.”

“You,” answered Kylo, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“As I have already told you, you cannot _have_ me.”

“Well how would you describe it?”

“Describe what? Nothing has been decided.”

“But…down in Benau, you…you kissed me.”

“That didn’t mean I agreed to whatever fantasy you’ve cooked up,” said Hux, even as he kicked himself for that folly. Suddenly there was pressure on his brain, pressing particularly in the frontal lobes. “Get out of my head.”

“You want to take total control,” said Kylo, almost distractedly. “And something about a mouse…?”

Hux actually slapped Kylo then, straight across the face and ignoring the sting in his hand as Kylo stared at him. “If you go into my head instead of _talking_ to me, I am going to hate you. And if I hate you, then you are going to hate me. And if we hate each other, then we will destroy each other and everyone else around us. I don’t know what your morals are to the people of this nation, but when I was promoted to High Command do you know the oath I took? That before I think of myself I would think of the people twice over. They come before me, the _nation_ comes before me. I am replaceable but the nation is not and if my desires hurt it then I will not take them. I will die before I knowingly and willingly let another die in my place, I will withstand torture before another is hurt in my place, I took that oath in full view of the entire Order and I don’t take it lightly. So don’t go into my head.”

“Alright,” agreed Kylo, staring at him with something unnervingly like wonder.

“And stop looking at me like that.” Kylo pressed something to his mind then, like a half-ration notice slipped under a door, non-invasive but damning. It was an image of himself, alight with anger and full of prophecy and love for the country he had come of age with, and Hux felt strangely uncertain, suddenly. He was used to being a symbol, being part of the united front that High Command presented, but to have all that admiration directed at him alone was new.

“That’s what I get out of this,” said Kylo. “I’m not good with words and I won’t pretend I am, not like you. I work with images, feelings, I can’t explain it how you want. I know you want words, want explanations and reports and you could go to Nova for that she’s brilliant with words, but not me.”

“That is…incredibly apparent,” managed Hux, staring at the man in front of him. This was outside of his range of ability, emotions. Especially ones as strong as Kylo had presented to him. Immediately, part of his mind jumped to instinct, finding out how he could take control so he wouldn’t be the weaker party, but another part hesitated to do that.

He couldn’t throw caution to the wind, that wasn’t his nature, but he _could_ justify calculated risks. And that would be what accepting Kylo would be for certain. If anyone heard of them, the youngest General of High Command and the Supreme Leader’s Primary Apprentice, they’d never be allowed to separate, not when such a perfect coupling could be presented to the people. Even if everything fell apart and they destroyed themselves, in front of the country they’d have to play a role and Hux knew full well that would end with nothing good.

But if it _didn’t_ fall apart, if this admiration Kylo held for him actually held water, if it didn’t fall to the wayside the second Kylo realized that every moment he spent thinking about Kylo’s offer Hux had been trying his hardest to find a solution that didn’t leave him with his mother’s sad eyes. If it didn’t fall apart, then it would…be worth the risk.

Hux was not Khee Ren, nor would he ever _be_ Khee Ren, he couldn’t see the future. But he was very good at mathematical prediction.

And bracing himself, looking at the man before him he said, “None of this means I’m not going to still lecture you for breaking things.” The smile that split Kylo’s face was staggering, and it left him unprepared enough that Kylo managed to press a kiss to his lips, the foul taste of chalk getting into his mouth making him splutter, “You are going to clean yourself up before you do anything like that, you understand me?”

But below it, there was that flicker of warmth he had felt when his mother had stood up for him, when Shara had smiled to see him again after so long, that he hadn’t let himself feel when Kylo hadn’t dismissed his interests. This time though, he didn’t stamp it down. He hated to admit it, but he was curious to see where this would lead, even as he found himself subconsciously bracing himself for disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering, Snoke's speech was written while listening to "You'll Be Back" from Hamilton. Also the Exile Generation's dance is entirely contra-dance in case you want a visual.


	5. Chapter 5

Honestly, Hux realized, he should have expected this to happen when he made this agreement with Kylo Ren. He barely had a moment to himself without Kylo sliding beside him. Kylo’s meditation was on the same schedule as it had been before, but now he had no patience for Hux sitting in a chair as he worked. He drew the line at sitting on the floor again, it felt too much like what children did and Hux couldn’t stand it.

“I don’t understand why you even want me on the floor,” sighed Hux, resolutely pressing his thumbprint to an allocation of funds from barracks to terraforming an ultraviolet light system to keep photosynthesis running. It wasn’t enough, it wasn’t nearly enough, there were too many permafrost forests, they couldn’t possibly manage to keep all of them alive but to lose them meant not enough oxygen and that was something they couldn’t synthesize or pump in and – a gentle brush against the edges of his mind, dulling the sharp edges of anxiety. Kylo’s work.

“Can’t you just trust me and go along with it for one second?” asked Kylo.

“No, not really. And I’ve never been one for dealing with children, do not make me have to say ‘use your words.’”

Kylo gave a scoff of distain, and shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. But still, credit where credit was due, he did try. “I just…you did it once before, you let me…it…” Finally, with a frustrated noise, he held up the image to Hux’s mind for inspection. From when Kylo had insisted he meditate, when Hux had let Kylo’s head rest on his knee and didn’t shove him off. Kylo wanted that again, and Hux sighed to see it.

“I am not sitting on the floor,” he said again, flicking to a memo sent to all of High Command about the most promising upcoming graduates of the Academy and its daughter schools so that they could pick who they wanted stationed under them. Marking that for later when he had more headspace, Hux turned instead to a report from Mechanical Navigations about how they advised lesser use of the hyperdrive for the time being as they found some sort of murmur in the system. Nothing dangerous, they hastened to add, just saying that trips to Morpila or anywhere else needed to wait at least a week.

The frustration radiating off Kylo was almost palpable, and Hux sighed, finally turning to…what should he even call Kylo? His partner? Paramour? “You didn’t think this through, did you? What this arrangement would be? I’m not going to bend to your every whim. I haven’t changed because of…of this.” He didn’t have the words to describe their arrangement and he hated it, he hated not having the words.

“You can still work,” insisted Kylo. “I won’t make you stop. You’re brilliant, I admire how hard you work, how dedicated you are, I just…”

Had Kylo always been this uncertain or was this because of their odd arrangement? Was he as unpracticed as Hux with emotional intimacy? Was that all it was? He hadn’t changed at all in the public eye, but when they were alone he was a new, unfamiliar creature.

“I’m not–” tried Hux, before pausing. It was going to come out cruel. All the words were wrong, and Hux remembered why he had always scoffed at his peers who danced around the independent contractors they hired for Starkiller. The awkward flirting between Starkiller’s engineers and the officers wasn’t _forbidden,_ per se, the engineers weren’t _actually_ military, but in Hux’s opinion it _was_ unprofessional. And only now that he was trying to navigate the turbulent waters of the early stages of an…arrangement did Hux understand. This was impossible. “I’m not going to sit on the ground, but I’m not turning you down either, so calm down. I…” taking a breath he said, “Look, you can lean against me, yes, but I’m not sitting on the floor. I don’t….I don’t _do_ that.” Maker, he sounded like a teenager. “It’s unprofessional.”

“You’re not on duty,” reminded Kylo even as he sat beside Hux’s legs and leaned against them. Subconsciously, Hux let his hand drift to try and comb Kylo’s hair into order, but it was too long and would never fall into regulation.

He felt like he was always on duty, was the problem. But he couldn’t admit that. Like at any moment someone might snap that it was time for a surprise inspection, stupid as that was. The only one who could do that now was the Supreme Leader, and Snoke really hadn’t ever been one for the military, really.

“You’re getting stressed,” commented Kylo, even as his voice began to grow softer for starting to meditate.

“Kylo, we talked about this.”

“I’m not in your head, I can just tell. You always think I don’t know you, but I do.”

Ignoring the red he could feel spreading across his face at such a thing, something that shouldn’t have felt as intimate as it did, Hux turned resolutely back to his work, ignoring as everything floated those three inches upwards as Kylo maintained whenever he meditated. Not his chair though. No, that was kept on the ground so Kylo could rest his head against Hux’s knee heavily as he went completely limp.

Meditation didn’t get any easier to comprehend, it seemed. Half the time, he did truly think Kylo had fallen asleep and needed to remind himself that wasn’t the case. Dimly, in a corner of his mind not concerned with the admission that aid desperately needed to be sent to a corner of Sfera, millions of credits lost in a ship carrying oil capsizing and thousands of lives at stake as the oil might just poison local water supplies. The planet was already gripped an internal global economic depression and needed High Command to help fund the cleanup. No more funds would be given to Starkiller, and Hux agreed that yes of course the lives at stake came before the project but he didn’t know how he’d keep his own personnel alive if he couldn’t keep the permafrosted ecosystem alive between stars.

A brush at his mind then, a gentle whisper of a concerned question. He’d never get used to that. “The Order as a whole comes before this project,” he said aloud, feeling silly to be doing so. “I have to make do with what I have. The accountants are very good at their jobs, but I don’t know how we’ll manage to build everything.” The touch at his mind was warmer then, a pointless reassurance that Hux couldn’t believe, at least not yet.

A group of six Stormtroopers were being sent to reeducation, he saw. Phasma marked the reasoning as “subordination of rank and disregard of the dignity of officers” and he raised a brow to see it so. Curiously, he searched through the other reeducation slips for that same phrase, and it seemed to crop up more often than it should. That was something to wonder about, he decided as he started to type out a message to her one handed, realizing his other hand still was smoothing down Kylo’s hair.

As he did, he saw a message had come in from Professor Mabun, saying that he knew it to be impossible for him to be there, but extending an invitation for Hux to attend the opening gala of the exposition from Kong held at Aman Museum. A quick message back assured that he was honored to have received it but he couldn’t possibly attend.

It was a normal evening working that he didn’t expect that pressure behind the ears again, one that he viscerally remembered. His fingers stuttered in their typing as Snoke pressed into his mind and said calmly, his voice brokering no argument, _You will come meet me, General. Leave Kylo to his meditation, I will speak to you and you alone. Do not keep me waiting._

Could he have been more graceful in standing? Yes, he didn’t need to send Kylo sprawling still loose limbed. A jab of hurt wrapped in a query struck the side of his mind, but he was almost skittish as he made sure he was in order as he said, “I have to go. The Supreme Leader, he…” This time a brush of understanding, and Hux didn’t want to think about the relief he felt as he walked briskly to the holochamber where Snoke awaited him.

He had rarely spoken to the Supreme Leader alone, he could count the times on one hand. He had a feeling he knew the reason why he had been summoned, though. That very reason sprawled boneless in Hux’s own front room, searching the entire Galaxy hard as he could to replicate a miracle.

The holochamber was large and cold as ever. The whole of the _Finalizer_ was cold, all Star Destroyers were, it was entirely impossible to heat something of that size. Still, the cold managed to feel more pronounced in this room where Snoke already awaited him.

“Supreme Leader,” he greeted, bowing his head a moment in deferential respect. He bowed his head for no one but the Supreme Leader.

“General,” said Snoke, his voice just as cold as the room around them. “You have gotten involved with Kylo Ren.”

Hux colored at that, ashamed even as he berated himself for not realizing that _of course_ the Supreme Leader knew of it. No matter that it was new, of course he knew. Kylo was too devoted to his master to keep any secrets and Hux couldn’t even conceive of how one shielded their mind. To learn that they were involved must have taken no more effort than breathing.

“It is not forbidden that that should be the case, nor would I speak to you in order to tell you if it was, Kylo knows better than to do something forbidden to him. However, I am aware that you have doubted the training due the Knights in the past. And your doubt I cannot abide.” The voice of his Leader had grown colder than ice, colder than space. “If they are allowed indulgences they will lose control. You’ve made no secret of your opinions of their destructive natures, imagine if they don’t have control over themselves.”

The memory of how relaxed and calm Kylo was after meditation rose up in his mind, and a whisper of thought accompanied it. That couldn’t be right, the denial seemed to be what made it worse. That was a traitorous thought, he realized, to dismiss the Supreme Leader’s words while speaking directly to him.

“It is hardly traitorous if you are blind to the Force as you are,” said Snoke, reminding Hux that even so far away, he could still slip into his mind. “You look at the Knights as if they were simply soldiers with a few more abilities than any normal soldier. Understandable. But understand this, by entering this involvement, you must take control of him. I expect you will appreciate that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’ve indulged him in agreeing to this, and now you cannot let that indulgence continue. If he should fall prey to the weakness that he was born with, it would not bode well for you or anyone else on your base or ship.”

The Oath of High Command again. That he would sacrifice his own desires to protect all those around him. It was an oath he took very seriously, and so he bowed his head in acceptance. “I will do my best, Supreme Leader.”

Thus dismissed, Hux turned the orders over in his mind. He had been given explicit permission from the highest power in the First Order to keep Kylo in line, and the implication was to do so at the expense of every life nearby. And yet, there was something about the idea of being so harsh with Kylo as Snoke clearly expected him to be that didn’t quite feel right. It was the same part of him that had thought again and again about that damn Republican play about Officer Rend’s treatment of his wife, the part of him that had wondered about the whole thought of addiction and where the loyalties of the Knights of Ren truly lay, the part of him that drew him back to read about the Confu principle of Ren.

If he scolded Kylo and forced him into the cruel regimen of self-denial and terror of addiction, was he any better than Snoke? And, a traitorous thought whispered into his mind, making him cringe and try to dismiss it immediately, if he took the role of enforcer as Snoke wanted him to, what was the purpose of this attachment that was building up? Was he only ordered to do this so Kylo would have no escape from what denial Snoke enforced?

Even Hux had his interest of history, he could manage to not be of the military for a few minutes as he read about developments of long dead cultures. Kylo was to be caged into his role entirely, so far as Hux understood it.

It was an order from the Supreme Leader, he reminded himself, so he really shouldn’t have that knot in his stomach.

Distantly, he was aware of those around him standing to the side of the hallways he walked through, making way for their commanding officer, but he was too busy thinking about what his newest orders meant for the one meditating in his quarters. Ordinarily, he would be disgusted with himself for not paying full attention to his surroundings, but now he was too horrified that he should be directly questioning the Supreme Leader’s handling of his primary apprentice.

There was something in how Snoke controlled Kylo that didn’t quite sit well with him, and that frightened him the more he thought about it, much as he tried not to let it.

When he returned to his quarters, it seemed that turmoil was apparent to someone who could brush against his mind as easy as breathing, for Kylo met him as soon as he entered, the line of his shoulders tight in a way that said that he hadn’t found anything. “What did he want?” demanded Kylo. “Do you have orders?”

Yes, yes he did, but looking at the Knight before him, Hux didn’t want to think about them, not give room for them to let rebellious and traitorous thoughts rise. Why did he keep courting such thoughts? Why did he keep doubting the Supreme Leader? He never had reason to doubt before, why did this keep coming up?

Instead of answering Kylo, Hux simply grabbed his head and pulled him in for a kiss. He wanted to just _stop thinking_ for a moment, and for all his flaws, Kylo was pretty good at helping him not think. The sharp prod towards his mind alerted him that Kylo still wanted to know what Snoke had said, but Hux just couldn’t bear to think about it a moment – it would probably lead to him actually saying something damningly traitorous that even Kylo couldn’t explain away by ignorance towards the Force.

Pressing himself against Kylo as the Knight in turn pressed him against the wall, Hux could feel the edges of his thoughts already fading in the face of the pure physicality of what was happening. It was a pure rush of relief that that was the case, that fog that detached him from everything that was happening around him beyond where Kylo’s hands were and the clumsy but very eager way he kissed. At a distance, Hux remembered once hearing that someone could become addicted to sex, and wondered if that was something the Knights had to undergo a trial for. Were it not for the whole terror of addiction being disturbingly close to actual torture techniques of deprivation of food, water, and sleep, he would have laughed.

But as it was, there was a hand undoing his uniform, and it was hard to think of self-denying rituals when one of those same ascetics clearly didn’t think this was something to deny themselves. He wasn’t technically on duty for the next nine hours, until the sleep cycle for First Shift ended, and if he could manage to not think for even two or three of those, that would be more than enough. And thankfully Kylo was still new enough to sex that he didn’t quite question what brought it on this time, like an animal too excited about a morsel of food.

The appeal of this, he told himself, was the physicality of it and that he did have something of a modicum of control over Kylo now. But that control now given more room by Snoke’s own orders now seemed…it left a foul taste in his mouth. He hadn’t been given orders so as to spare those around them from Kylo’s rages, he had been given orders to keep Kylo in self-denial. The orders had been to keep Kylo under Snoke’s thumb, not to fulfill his oath and protect his people.

Kylo had gotten his jacket open now, and was making progress in getting his shirt off too, openmouthed kisses pressed to the underside of his jaw, and Hux let himself sink into that, to leave behind higher brain functioning in favor of just avoiding his doubt. Ordinarily, he’d hate that he was doing so, but this was the most recent in a horrifying chain of doubting the one who guided the First Order and who had helped the whole system even be _born_. Without Snoke, the Order would have crumbled under the Warlord Manon’s power, why should he ever doubt the man who had come to help the fledgling Order? If he could just get out of his own head for even a moment, he tried to reason, then that would solve the problem.

Part of him felt guilty, using Kylo just to forget, but the Knight certainly didn’t seem to be complaining, even as he was still fully clothed while Hux was now bare chested.

“Get your damn robes off,” said Hux, tugging at the offensive articles of clothing, far too complicated for his tastes. Immediately, Kylo’s hands abandoned their exploration of Hux’s chest in favor of shucking his own clothes, though he didn’t quite leave off the attention his mouth was paying to Hux’s collarbones but for when he had to pull some article of clothing off over his head.

Once matched in undress, Hux captured his lips again, chasing the fog that was in Kylo’s kiss. Kylo, damn him, seemed to have realized that something was going on, and kept trying to nudge into Hux’s mind, each attempt making Hux growl into the kiss, tugging on Kylo’s hair to tell him to stop. Suddenly, his wrists were pulled back like metal to a magnet and pinned to the wall just as he found his whole body unable to move. Kylo’s doing. “You will release me this _instant,_ Kylo,” warned Hux in a low growl.

“You’re not telling me something,” said Kylo, tone listing in the direction of accusatory. “I want to know what.”

“What, and interrogate me? Break my mind apart?” scoffed Hux, but much as he hated it, there was more bluster than he wanted in it. He couldn’t get out of this hold Kylo had on him, and he knew full well Kylo didn’t seem to have any qualms about casually invading his mind. Things could go very wrong very fast, and he was fully aware of that. “I want to stop thinking, just for a moment. It can wait.”

Kylo just stared a long moment at him as if searching for something, before that smile twisted across his face, breathlessly roguish (and Hux would deny the flutter it gave rise to in his stomach if anyone even insinuated it did anything to him), and he said lowly, “My dear General, all you had to do was ask.”

* * *

For still being relatively new to sex, Kylo was an incredibly fast learner, driving all thoughts beyond _yes, please,_ and _more_ from Hux’s mind. Now, regaining his breath against Kylo’s frankly over muscled chest, Hux’s thoughts were still slow and muddled and it was a relief. He couldn’t think anything beyond the immediate moment, hearing the slowly calming heartbeat in Kylo’s chest and feeling the repetitive mindless stroking up and down his bicep by one of Kylo’s overlarge hands.

He needed a shower, though, and began to gather his strength to force himself out of bed to do so. He detested feeling dirty, but he was still tired and not certain if his legs could even support him. Still, taking a bracing breath, he began to move towards the refresher. Kylo let out a displeased noise at being left in the bed, but surely by now he was used to it.

Water showers were an indulgence that he had never gotten used to, not actually given a water ration for one until he was a commissioned officer and not having access to excess water with which to bathe in before that since he was four years old. It was instinct to turn on a sonic shower, cleaning himself by its dispassionate protocol. They were faster, by any rate, and didn’t leave his hair wet for overlong. So when he was suddenly doused with warm water as the shower switched settings, he already knew that Kylo had done it and didn’t need either the arms around his waist nor the voice in his ear to tell him so.

“You deny yourself everything.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” said Hux, but the usual sharpness of the words was gone, washed away for the moment by both water and by his own exhaustion. He hadn’t even bothered to turn on the light in the refresher, and the sensations seemed to be heightened by denying himself ability to actually see that well, the only light inching its way in from the bedroom.

The water, the most precious ration available on a ship, was warm where it poured decadently over his naked body, and the indulgence made him soft. And perhaps that was Kylo’s intention as he murmured into Hux’s now soaked hair, “What did Master Snoke have to say? What made you not want to think?”

To verbalize it would make it real, was Hux’s first thought, ridiculous as it was. To Snoke, to Kylo, to the Knights, what was in the mind was no less real than what was in writing and signed with a thumbprint. But at least Kylo was _asking_ him, maybe he had finally heeded all of Hux’s warnings to stay out of his mind. Closing his eyes and feeling the water pooling where his back was pressed against Kylo’s chest, sliding along where they met to run down his sides for how closely they were pressed he said, “I’ve had traitorous thoughts, Kylo. Too many. I needed to get outside of my own thoughts for a moment. To stop turning circles, to be able to view things objectively.”

There was a long moment of silence as Kylo’s nose brushed against the shell of Hux’s ear, his quiet breathing loud for proximity, but beyond that the only sound was of the water striking their bodies and splashing against the ground. “I know you. You like to pretend I don’t, sometimes, but I do. And I know you are incredibly loyal, you mean and believe in every last part of that oath you took. Thoughts you think are traitorous, they’re probably no worse than what any other person may think.”

“I questioned direct orders from the Supreme Leader. I questioned them moments after I received them. I’ve…I’ve been doubting him.”

The arms about his waist tightened, wet strands of too long hair moving forward and sending a new rivlet of water streaming down Hux’s chest. “You’re not a traitor for doubting. You never have before now. Didn’t one of your emperors say something about that?” Hux struggled to remember, his mind still blessedly slow and hazy, but he could vaguely remember something like that in one of the court records of the Eda Dynasty. “If you doubt but still obey, then your resolve is stronger, is it not?”

That just raised the question of if he _could_ keep obeying. He told himself that it was physicality and control that he got out of this arrangement with Kylo, but he kept finding himself enjoying the interested look on Kylo’s face when he explained the senatorial process the J’leans had or the water based cult religions for the amphibious Edans, how he turned on a warm water shower and just held him, and all the smaller things. He found himself caring about Kylo, and the idea of treating him as Snoke did was…almost distasteful.

He wanted to tell Kylo, wanted to tell him how he _had_ to keep himself in line and in order, if not for his own sake then for Hux’s, but that was so entirely selfish that he couldn’t put words to it. He had learned young that selfishness was only moderately tolerated and in very few situations, and certainly this wasn’t one of them.

How lucky he was then, that Kylo could see into his mind. There was tentative pressure in his mind, and when he did not snap nor think loudly for Kylo to leave, the foreign presence remained, feeling the surface of his thoughts. They were muddled and unclear, but clearly they were enough for Kylo to pick out what had caused this odd mood in Hux.

“I know you doubt my training and that of the Knights,” he said, voice hatefully gentle, “but it is necessary. Without it, we falter towards the Light, we listen to Skywalker when he calls to us, we become useless and the Force forsakes us because of it. You doubt asceticism and wonder if it works, but you’ve seen it across planets. It’s a universal philosophy, it is developed without influence because it _works._ Being with you, I…I could become lax. If you keep me in line–”

“What you do to yourself is torture,” said Hux suddenly, the pressure of Kylo in his mind pressing away the fog that their bedsport had spread. “And I can’t–” To admit it was to admit that he cared. That somehow this ascetic and all his childish rages had wormed his way into his being. He hadn’t cared like this at First Accord, he hadn’t cared like this even yesterday. But perhaps that was a lie. He hadn’t been asked to hurt Kylo on First Accord nor yesterday, after all. “I can’t torture you.”

Kylo said nothing, merely bowed his head and pressed kiss after kiss to the juncture Hux’s neck and shoulder. At the same time he held up ideas to Hux’s mind for inspection. They were harder for him to decode than the images he usually presented, but the rest of the ship and all her demands seemed to have melted beneath the warmth of the water that still doused them, and Hux had the time to understand them.

They were warm ideas; disbelief that someone would want to protect him from some perceived threat, fondness that he should think that his training _was_ a threat, and faint fluttering of some emotion that both of them were almost too frightened to name.

The warmth of the steam that rose from the water mixed with the steady presence of Kylo at his back was heady, and Hux’s eyes slipped shut at the way Kylo’s emotions slid alongside the sensations. He could feel Kylo laughing behind him, a low chuckle, before the water was turned off, leaving him oddly bereft.

Kylo was making to dry him off, but despite the exhaustion getting a better grip on him Hux still grumbled, “I am perfectly able to take care of myself.”

“I know,” said Kylo only, and didn’t protest when Hux reached for the towel, lazily scrubbing it through his hair before running it along his limbs, taking the wetness off of him as it went. He didn’t like water showers, he remembered, they took too long afterwards. A hand took his own, and began to tug him slightly towards the door, back to bed.

“You worry far too much,” murmured Kylo, settling beside Hux. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“That is categorically untrue,” managed Hux, sleep already winding around him.

“Sleep, you can argue with me when you wake up.”

* * *

Hux resented that Kylo had taken care of him at the admission of his own traitorous weakness, and threw himself into his work the next day, meeting with the terraforming specialists to discuss what could be done in terms of false photosynthesis while in transit. There were the leftover ultraviolet light installations that had once been near the equator in the highest concentration of vegetation, but the planet was in turmoil. Massive changes had been mounted to its core and surface; jettisoning so much of its core had resulted in disruptions to the stability of the planet as a whole, and the new star it orbited was further away than that which it originally spun around. The planet was cooler than it should have been, and that had killed plenty of its original flora, let alone what fauna had managed to escape original extermination.

It was an exercise in futility, hearing the specialists say that if they just had, say, two million credits they could probably rig something together that would keep roughly 59% of planetside vegetation photosynthesizing but with the careful reminder that the majority of vegetation had been on the equator. The equator that was now destroyed to make room for the barrel of the weapon. They had survived the trip to the current star, yes, but that 59% was still significantly less than before.

“We will not be receiving any more funds for the time being,” said Hux, cutting off those damning prophecies. “What can be done with the funds we have? I granted you more just yesterday, what can you do with that added on?”

The scientists and specialists exchanged glances before one said, “Well, not that much. We can probably reroute the funds from ultraviolet installations to simulating dormancy. It might keep photosynthesizing life alive just until a new source of light is presented, but all staff would be required to evacuate as a result, as no new oxygen would be formed.”

“And what would the costs for that be?”

“Planetwide dormancy? It would be best to do when one hemisphere is in winter already, that would make it only one hemisphere worth of work, which would require us to wait to fire another few months, and probably begin early…”

“The cost?” reminded Hux, his tone very deliberately not snappish but sharp.

“We could probably do it with our current budget. Perhaps with an additional few thousand credits. Fifty thousand more at most.”

Hux quickly did the math, his own salary was enough that he could probably pay that extra amount out of pocket. It would be a massive blow to his finances, but what did he actually use it on? Paying for access to academic journals and occasionally higher quality spirits, but not much beyond that. “We can make it work,” he decided. “Just send me the exact costs.”

“It’s a far more complicated process,” warned another specialist, a woman with eyes whose sharpness seemed only intensified by the glasses she wore. “It may not cost as much, but it will take much more time, and will mean that moving from this star to the next must be done twice as fast as previously estimated. Are you prepared for that?”

“If you are prompt with sending the numbers, then I will make a final decision based on all information. Seeing as this option is so far only conjecture, I should like some hard numbers. As fast as you can please. Now I am needed elsewhere, excuse me.”

He had no end of duties as commanding officer of both the _Finalizer_ as well as Starkiller Base, and the medics had told him that he had been going between planet and ship far too often and he could only do one a day now. His body was not used to it after spending so many years living in space as a child, and he was straining it too much. Hux had been regulated to only one trip per day, at least for the next week. The atmosphere at Starkiller was far thinner and far more forgiving than any other planet, but still too much travel through an atmosphere could put a lot of strain on a body that hadn’t grown up traversing one at all times like others of earlier or later generations.

But that didn’t mean that he didn’t keep remote surveillance of the _Finalizer,_ trapped as he was on Starkiller. Phasma hadn’t yet returned his message inquiring about the Stormtroopers, but in his experience with the woman, that only meant that she was handling it and would tell him when the problem was neatly packed away. At least he didn’t have to worry about his basest soldiers as well. There was a reason they had tiers of command.

Kylo hadn’t done anything destructive, thank the Maker. He _had_ monopolized a training room, but that was nothing new. And considering everyone had seen his display on First Accord, absolutely no one wanted to disturb him while he trained. Hux couldn’t blame them, but still told Mitaka to inform him immediately if Kylo decided to destroy anything. It was a standard order to give, but now it left a pit in his stomach; if Kylo was to falter and destroy something, that might be viewed as a failure of his most recently assigned duties.

By the time the sun set, Hux had nothing left to do on Starkiller that needed immediate attention, but there was precious little he could do through comm and message to the _Finalizer._ It left him in a ball of useless energy that he resolved by going to his quarters, finished before most of the barracks by virtue of his rank, and burrowing himself in academic texts, distracting himself from the fact that he was effectively useless.

_Despite that women held dominion over the souls of the J’leans and the death sphere (as evidenced by the Goddess Ferrywoman who brought the souls to the Death World as well as the Fates being a three headed woman, not to mention the Queen of the Death World), masculine dominion over the life sphere meant that there was what some considered overcompensation of the masculine role. This has led many scholars to incorrectly define the J’lean Empire as a solely masculine one – a patriarchy surrounding warfare and territory expansion which eventually lead to their ruin. I believe, however, that these same displays thought to be proof of the patriarchal hierarchy of the Empire are instead the desperate attempts by the masculine to leave their mark on the walls of time._

_It was said most clearly by the King of Kings Makaur in Fragment XXII, “so little time for the breath to ripple the water, so little time for it to settle again. What scratches we make in the edifice of time must be deep, for in time they will wear away as a damned memory does.”_

This article was perhaps hitting too close to home, reading about men who tried make their mark on the world around them, so that they would be remembered in face of the eternity that women held onto. The result was, lamentably, that there were precious few works commissioned by or exacted by women, who held dominion over souls and the unending afterlife of death they believed in. There was no reincarnation of the soul for the J’leans, it seemed. There were a few surviving works recorded to be commissioned by women, and they _were_ fascinating and quite telling about everyday life in their society, but they were very far between compared to the sheer amount that men produced to glorify their own names.

Still, Hux’s own fear of being forgotten was being touched upon too much by this particular article, but he refused to be frightened away by it, and instead stubbornly kept reading. Professor Mabun and Dr. Riil and even Anointed Liu all said that their craft had to be applied to modern times, and despite that J’lean culture was rather different from that of the Order, Hux could see what they meant.

Starkiller was the same as the Colossus that stood beside the Imperial Crypt, the same as the War Frieze in the Temple of Sol which showed the great victories of King of Kings Traan. He was doing the same that every man of the J’lean Empire did, scratching his name frantically into the wall of time, trying to make it deep and large so that it would endure longer than anyone else’s. The J’lean Empire fell thousands of years prior, but their concerns echoed his own.

It was both frightening, that this mighty empire now forgotten by most had the same concerns, and something close to comforting in a way. There was a kinship between him and those ancient Emperors. He could read of Traan’s great victories and remember his own, there was something reassuring in knowing that he was on par with these Emperors whose people saw them as incarnations of the sun itself.

He fell asleep there, reading of ancient times that resonated so strongly within him, and woke up when a message chimed on his datapad, the numbers coming from those terraforming specialists. Sitting up slowly, stretching out the cramped muscles of his neck, he glanced at his chrono and realized that he had spent the whole night asleep at his desk. It was a half an hour before he usually woke up, but why not start the day a little earlier? Besides, if he roused early, that meant that he could be back on the _Finalizer_ by the start of the first shift instead of arriving late.

Hux was a good enough pilot, had to be if he wanted a passing grade back in the Academy, but in the fifteen minutes from planet to ship, he’d like to spend the time comparing the costs and consequences of the two proposed plans to maintain life while in transit from one star to the next. Granted, he was too concerned with the stress of takeoff for the first seven minutes, but the last eight he barely looked up from his datapad.

Simulated dormancy would take less money, yes, and he could probably cover the extra costs beyond the budget out of pocket, but it would take far more time and might be more dangerous for those on the planet. Most of the dormancy would have to be done during one hemisphere’s springtime, preventing the flora from actually emerging from its winter state. The danger was that as the other hemisphere entered winter at the same time, the only oxygen production would be done by coniferous trees. Two trees could produce enough oxygen for four people, but so many forests had been destroyed at the equator to make room for the barrel of the weapon and what was referred to primarily in layman’s terms as the radiation belt, the massive trench that wouldn’t let the radiation reach the populated base.

It was a chilling thought, to realize that with the amount of deforested area and that which had been killed by permafrost where the trees hadn’t been prepared to deal with such stress on the ecosystem, they might not have enough oxygen in the entire atmosphere for personnel.

They already had a seven minute window from when the star was fully drained to when they had to leave to the next star, the last light vanishing and leaving them in total darkness. That was expected. They had prepared for an absolute skeleton crew for that, evacuating everyone else. The idea that this dormancy had to be done even before that? By the time that they actually fired the weapon, standing at sea level would be equivalent to standing atop a mountain. People could get what amounted to elevation sickness just from stepping outside if they tried to handle the problem by pumping oxygen into the complexes.

By the time he got back to the _Finalizer,_ he felt halfway to hopeless and increasingly irate and it wasn’t even First Shift yet. Today was going to be just wonderful, he thought as the shuttle landed and he stepped out into the hangar that was only just fully rousing for the day.

Half distracted, he sent off the numbers from the terraforming specialists to the accountants to see what could be done as he walked to the bridge. There were no pressing updates from last night, and with the ship in orbit there was really nothing that needed immediate attention. The hyperdrive was close to being fixed, though, which was a relief. He didn’t like having anything out of commission on his ship.

He found himself halfway through the shift glancing through the list of promising graduates from the Academy and its daughter schools, now annotated by those who had chosen their favorites while he had been too wrapped up dealing with Snoke’s new orders concerning Kylo and how he could keep Starkiller functioning in between stars. They were promising, he saw, and marked ten as his own.

Two were tactician specialists who had managed minimal losses in the Inevitable Loss simulations, and he admired that. Perhaps they were not as minimal as the others taken before, but the fact that the managed less than fifty percent was impressive and real experience would make them far more capable than a simulation could. Another was brilliant in navigations and had written her thesis on how dark matter could be calculated into navigations in hyperspeed and built off the Mordehai theory of dark matter in relation to modified gravity. Another three were prime for greater command, but while not as obvious as some of their peers did show traits that Hux at least valued in commanding officers. Another had specialized in the engineering of the hyperdrive, and could easily take over mechanical navigation with how they theorized off the Rodburn Compressed Hyperspeed Theory. They had written that a chain of compressors could elongate the lifespan of the hyperdrive system of a Star Destroyer by the Pulley System. It was brilliant, actually, requiring each individual drive to exude less energy to push the whole ship into hyperspeed. Another two were communications, both polyglots who could speak fluently in the major native languages of six planets between them, entirely invaluable even when those planets were already part of the Order.

The last, however, was the most interesting to Hux. She was one of the first to create her own specialty rather than enter into a previously established track, and the others of High Command were something of traditionalists, the more their loss. She was a Wartime Force-Use Theorist, so she said; she had analyzed how active vs. inactive Force Users had come into conflict during the fall of the Empire and theorized the deployment of a User in conflict could turn it in the favor of the side that had more active Users by sheer default.

She’d do best in relatively close quarters with an actual Force User, he thought. Perhaps it was for that reason no one else had taken her under their command.

When shift ended, he was called to a meeting by the accountants he had sent the numbers to, and braced himself about what horrible tidings they had to share. He had only just gotten himself out of his foul mood too.

“If you go into this expecting to be put in a foul mood you will be,” warned a modulated voice at his elbow as Kylo fell into step beside him.

“I had been wondering where you had been hiding,” said Hux, barely looking up from his datapad. “I haven’t heard tell of you destroying anything.” An idea was held up to his mind, but he didn’t have either brainspace or time to decode it. When he didn’t glance towards it, Kylo said,

“You were concerned about your new orders. I didn’t want to make things worse for you.”

“That’s new.” But he was oddly touched by it. Kylo didn’t acquiesce to anything, didn’t make compromises and never bowed to anyone’s will. That he should have done so for Hux’s peace of mind was rather touching, actually. “Oh, you’ll like this. There’s a new batch of students who are due for graduation and commissions next month, ten of them I’ve marked for this ship. One of them is a Wartime Force-Use Theorist. She wrote her dissertation on how Force Users are used in battle, studied Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa and how they were both active compared to Palpatine’s inactive status while Vader was active. You never know, she may just sit you down to talk about it. Promise me you won’t kill her.”

Kylo was silent long enough for Hux to actually be almost concerned, especially since Kylo had in the past spoken of how Luke Skywalker tried to reach out to him and the Knights. Perhaps it was a sensitive subject?

“You are remarkably calm about how she spoke of the fall of your cultural heritage,” said Kylo eventually, his tone impossible to define due to the helmet.

“These first commissioned officers aren’t of my generation, Kylo. They only understand the empire as the structure from which the one they were born into came. For her, it is entirely theoretical. I haven’t actually read her dissertation, but from what I understand she used them as the stepping off point to explore the idea of how the Supreme Leader as well as you and your Knights as Force Users outnumbers every Force User the New Republic has and how your participation in our conflict would well and truly assure our victory. Even without Leader Snoke on the front lines, we would have seven to the New Republic’s one, now that Skywalker is more or less slated for execution once you find him. Any progress on that?”

He was aware that he was being perhaps a bit too brusque, but he had plenty to deal with and he wanted as much information as was possible in a short period of time, and brusqueness with a man who could read his mind was perhaps forgivable.

“I didn’t find anything last time, and I will not meditate for a few more days still. I know how you feel, but I will not let myself become addicted to meditation, if only for your sake.”

Hux felt his cheeks get hot and willed the blush to go away as he snapped, “We are in public, please do not speak of that here.”

“There is no one in the hall.”

“That is beside the point.”

_I saw how hesitant you are to be the rod with which I am to be punished, and I am doing everything in my power that you will not have to be._

_Careful Ren, you’re getting sentimental._

_You are mine as I am yours, and I take care of that which is mine._

_Yes, the destruction of your quarters three months ago proves that._

_The quarters here are temporary, all such things are. I have my Knights, I have my lightsaber, I have the ever-fixed mark of my Knights, and I have you. I take care of all those things; my Knights I help when they seem to fall close to weakness, my weapon I maintain so that it does not break, the guiding mark of the Knights I preserve and protect, and you…I have yet to figure out what you need. Forgive me that I should try and determine that._

The blush was at least off his cheeks, but it was climbing the back of his neck to hear such things. They bolstered him; he had seen how Kylo cared for his Knights, that he should be on the same plane as them was quite meaningful and he knew it.

“What is the…mark?” he asked, stopping before the meeting room he was scheduled in.

Kylo regarded him a long time, simple emotions held up for inspection of trust and hesitancy mixed together before he said, “We hold few things sacred in the Order of Ren, but this is one of them. I maintain it for that I am the rightful owner. You are many things, General, but you are not one who may see it. Perhaps someday, though.”

Nodding as though it meant nothing, and truly it didn’t, Hux turned with the strangely bolstered spirits that Kylo’s little monologue had given him to the meeting that was sure to make him feel near useless. He never praised the Republic, he categorically refused to, but their interplanetary economy was sometimes something he wished could be implemented in the Order’s space. As it was, the Western Crescent’s natives tended not to travel between worlds if they could help it, and each planet’s economy was largely self-contained. And with High Command siphoning most of its funds to aiding where aid was needed, it was leaving Starkiller in the lurch and left Hux with too little funds for too large projects.

Still, he had to do what he could. There was no other option.

* * *

As expected, even with moving money around best they could, the dormancy plan required Hux to pay four thousand out of pocket, which was…better than the previous estimation. Still, it did raise the question of exactly how staff was supposed to survive on a planet no longer producing oxygen on its own power.

“I suggest you leave that to the terraforming specialists,” said Hux dryly. “Seeing as they will be remaining onworld, I assume they have some plan in place that they will not die.” Human survival instincts did tend to place that above most other objectives.

Still, when he was let go, he was still in something of a dark mood and could feel that sensation at his back that as of recently he couldn’t tell was phantom touch from too-tight muscles or Kylo actually bracing him with some Force touch between his shoulder blades. Either way, today was going as well as waking up at his own desk had heralded, and part of him just wanted the day to be done so that he could start again.

Food would do him good, he decided. The officer’s mess was loud and busy at this time of the day, but as General, most people left him alone. There was a message from Shara, he saw, talking about how her brother was to graduate from the Benau Academy, and how her class was starting to learn about High Command ( _Everyone has to do a small report about a member of High Command, they’re split into groups, and you wouldn’t believe how many want to do their report on you_ ). The simple updates were a relief from dealing with a thousand things far more complex every moment of the day. Granted, civilian life was wildly beyond him most days, but it still was a moment to rest.

Still, the moment was too short and he was soon swept up in an urgent message that seismic activity was detected, something too strong for the slowed tectonic shifts that Starkiller had. With so much of the core jettisoned, there shouldn’t be anything this powerful. It was softer than what occurred along fault lines and it could barely be felt by those on the base, but that it should be happening at all was worrying. It felt too much like a planet caught in its death throes, even as Hux cringed at such a poetic thought.

“We’re concerned that the Oscillator might have something to do with it,” said the one pressed to speak to him, Sergeant Furcht. “Or at least, the terraforming specialists are having a row with the Oscillator’s engineers over it. Something about the size of the Oscillator creating a new tectonic fault line?”

“You mean to tell me that the planet is displaying an alarmingly strong seismic event and no one knows what’s causing it and are instead bickering over it?” asked Hux, resisting the urge to rub his temples.

“Something like that, sir,” apologized Furcht. “There’s actually nothing we can do for the moment, we just have to wait it out and make certain nothing was damaged afterwards. There’s three different teams to handle the Oscillator, everything else is secondary.”

“Good, the moment this event is finished make certain that the Oscillator is not damaged. If anything should go wrong, we’ll all suffer for it.”

“Yes sir. From what I understand, most tectonic activity has slowed down immensely since the core of the planet was jettisoned. This is major only in comparison, the suspicion is that nothing will be damaged at all.”

“I’d prefer no risks be taken, Sergeant.”

“Of course, sir.”

Once they were disconnected, Hux remained on tenterhooks about whether or not something like a relatively minor seismic event would trigger some great catastrophe. It was a good thing this was happening now and not when in the process of draining the sun, he told himself. If the Oscillator was damaged and no one caught it, when trying to absorb a star they might just be destroyed from the second they tried to harness the nuclear fusion.

And when that pressure of another person occupying his brain appeared, Hux sighed and snapped, _Stay out of my head, Kylo, I don’t have room to deal with that right now._

_You’re stressed._

_Yes I am. The Oscillator could be damaged and don’t think I’ve forgotten how your Knight saw a future of Starkiller being destroyed._

_There is no guarantee this will cause it, and not all of her visions come to pass._

_Forgive me if I am marginally concerned over it._

_Let me help, you will end up destroying yourself if you get so stressed in a time when your ship is effectively doing nothing –_

_The ship might be doing little, but the base is not. Did you forget I am the one in charge of this project?_

_It would be impossible for me to do so. But you cannot do anything about a seismic event nor can you go down to the base today, your body is already ill equipped for that –_

_Excuse me?_

_You spent most of your formative years in space, your body never adapted for atmospheric entrance and exit. That’s not a flaw of your character, it just means that with constantly going between the ship and the base you are putting a lot of stress on your system._

_When did you become so understanding?_

_Hux, I don’t have many things in this galaxy. What I do have, I take care of. And I have you now, so I am going to take care of you._

_I don’t_ need _taking care of!_

There was a long period of silence before Kylo held up images and ideas. It was jolting, to see himself from outside his own body, but Kylo was remembering holding him in that vastly indulgent water shower. The borrowed emotions of the memory were powerful; possessiveness, desperate gratitude that this was something he could have, fondness for just how small Hux truly was under his layers, and a desire to protect him. Hux was concerned about whether or not he could bear to do to Kylo what he saw as torture, and now Kylo was concerned that Hux was doing himself the same amount of harm he saw in what Kylo had been prescribed.

Hux had said outright he refused to be had, and now it was achingly clear he resented the idea that anyone else should take care of him. It was who he was, he wasn’t built to let another human care for him. But Kylo seemed to be built along the same lines; he couldn’t let someone take care of him without reciprocating, otherwise he saw himself weak and coddled instead of part of a mutually beneficial partnership. If Hux was to keep him in line, it translated to Kylo that he was taking care of him. But he chafed that he was denied reciprocation, frustrated that one of the strictest men on the ship and base would be _coddling_ him.

_Let me help. You’re in an awful mood and you’re stressed over something you cannot do anything about for the moment._

Despite what Kylo had shown, it felt too much like weakness to give in, and Hux couldn’t. _Not yet,_ he thought.

Kylo, for his part, seemed displeased by that, but didn’t argue, and slid out of Hux’s head, the pressure on his skull vanishing with him. It was a good thing too, it might have evolved into a headache and Hux didn’t have the time for that day. As it was, he was going to meet with the mechanical navigations officers and their engineers to determine just why the hyperdrive had broken and after that he was due on the bridge again.

And all the while, he kept half an eye on his datapad to see what would come of this seismic event.

* * *

At the end of the day, Hux was irritable but relieved; the Oscillator hadn’t been damaged. The event was still without cause and he issued an order that it be investigated immediately. There wasn’t much they could do in terms of prevention, but they could at least get a prediction model in place so that it wouldn’t happen in the midst of draining the star.

All he wanted was a glass of cooked absinthe and to read one of the newer articles Dr. Riil had suggested for him before bed. Today had been a disappointment and he just wanted to start the new day. Hopefully tomorrow could be salvaged.

As he put out the flames that danced across the green liquid, he heard the sound of someone signaling at his door. Going to open it, he had a feeling he wouldn’t be having that drink any time soon for it was Kylo on the other side, a tension in the line of his shoulders that spoke to nothing good. “Are you quite well?” asked Hux when Kylo pushed past him into the room, gaze fixed entirely on the glass of absinthe. No answer was forthcoming. “Kylo?”

Only then did he turn around swiftly, as if surprised by Hux’s voice, hands coming up to tear at his helmet until he got it off. He looked distraught. He looked seconds from destroying something, and that was _not_ going to be happening in Hux’s quarters. “I did my best that I would not have to ask you to keep me in line, but I am weak,” he finally said. “I crave water.”

“You know I don’t think you can be addicted to that.”

“I don’t _care!_ ” snarled Kylo. “I don’t care if you believe it or not, but I need you to not let me have any.”

That anger was mixed with desperation, Hux could see, and the cause was clear when Kylo presented it to him, ideas and images held up for inspection. Already Snoke was less than subtle that he expected Kylo to find another piece of the map. Kylo, it seemed, was under just as much pressure as Hux was and could not afford to fail at this.

Saying nothing, Hux took his glass of absinthe and set it in a cabinet, away from Kylo’s line of sight as he asked, “How much longer until you can drink something? Until you’ve proven you can’t be addicted?”

“I’ve gone two days. I’ve already had my Trial of Water, tomorrow I can drink again, but tonight I cannot falter,” said Kylo.

“Then you’re going to sit down where I can keep an eye on you so that you don’t,” said Hux simply. He still felt ill at the idea of doing so, of denying Kylo water to the point that for anyone else it might even be called a slow execution, but it wasn’t the time to fight it. Instead, Kylo ended up laying on Hux’s bed, flat on his stomach with his head turned to stare blankly at the wall as Hux settled beside him, a hand on his back as he read the essay in front of him aloud to distract them both.

“By the time the J’lean Empire expanded so far as Miajugist, the area was under the reign of the Fourth King of the House of Rohandia, Deroh. The area was known and is still known for its pottery, which in the time of the House of Rohandia was well sought as a luxury good by even the J’lean Imperial Court. Mimicry workshops sprung up across the Empire, so well regarded was Miajugistian pottery.”

The essay spoke of how the oldest pottery of the area marked the development of language, how the first letters were marked alongside finely incised and carved figures; heroes calling war cries in battle or orators reciting poetry. They seemed close to children’s books, with exaggerated speech bubbles, but that some pots merely mimicked the shapes of letters to make the artisan’s art the more elevated was an interesting one.

“The most famous example is that of Pensmult and Cxagrenis playing the ancient game of Hops, calling out their scores. Pensmult is the loser with a score of eight, referencing the story of Cxagrenis slaying the king and his family when Pensmult belittled his mourning by saying ‘you’ve yet eight children, why weep for losing just one?’ Cxagrenis’ winning score of eleven, however, holds no weight within the story, unless some element has been lost to time, a sobering possibility considering the cultural suppression in the early years of the J’lean dominion over Miajugist.”

“Hux,” said Kylo softly, and Hux looked up from his reading, surprised to hear that rough voice. He said nothing else for a long time until Hux prompted him with little more than a tap of a finger on the back of his neck. “Your life is like this,” he continued, raising a hand drawing a steep slope in the air. “Always going up. But have you stopped to think what happens when you reach the top of the path you’re on?”

“Like climbing a rock face, you just find another route and keep going,” said Hux.

“Even if it means climbing back down? You don’t think I know you, but I know you’re too prideful to accept that. You’ll leap, and you’ll either make it, or you’ll fall.”

That was vaguely worrying, and Hux sat aside his datapad to hear it as he looked down at Kylo. “I know Lady Khee is your fortuneteller,” he said slowly, “but have you had a vision?”

Kylo said nothing for a while before finally saying, “I think your philosophical studies are rubbing off on me.”

“Oh yes, what a struggle, actually thinking for once.”

“And anyway, Khee is not our fortuneteller,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard Hux. “None of us can truly tell the future, she just receives visions easier than the rest of us. It’s a vision of _a_ future, not _the_ future.”

“I should hope so, considering she foretold Starkiller’s collapse.”

“Whatever happens, you aren’t going to blame her. She can’t change the future any more than you can a seismic event.” The protective instinct Kylo had for his Knight was entirely obvious, and Hux found himself stroking down Kylo’s spine to assure he meant the Lady no harm. Khee could probably kill him before he did anything anyway.

Kylo did not speak again, and eventually Hux picked up the datapad again and began to read, his own throat uncomfortably dry for denying himself water alongside Kylo, “The example of Cxagrenis and Pensmult calling out their scores is indicative of the playful view the people of Miajugist had of their new writing system. Few people at this time were literate, so to own and understand a piece like this would have been a point of pride, and viewed as a curiosity for the pot would be effectively talking. These ‘talking pieces’ fell out of fashion as more and more people became literate, and the written word became separate from the world of art. There were a few attempts at revivals, but it never seemed to gather any momentum.”

He continued reading without interruption until he finished the essay, finding Kylo had fallen asleep somewhere in the middle. Tomorrow would be better, he hoped as he prepared for bed. There wasn’t much anywhere else to go but uphill from today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's alternate title is "Hux and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day"


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this has been months in coming, hasn't it?

The Officer’s Barracks were finished, and there were already categorizations in place for what groups of trees in what order should be put to dormancy, and things were looking up. Kylo, however, was the sole exception to that trend. And as things typically were with the Knight, he managed to make every good thing absolutely moot.

Nothing got better with him, instead he grew more and more irate as time went on and he kept not finding another piece of the map. Every day, it seemed, there was some tale of Kylo destroying something or threatening someone or sending someone to medbay or any combination thereof. Kylo was angry and refused to be calmed and at the same time Hux kept doing what he could to keep it from happening again.

At moments when he had a space to breathe, he tried to reason with him, at nights he tried to distract him, but nothing was working and there was no small amount of fear in him that he was failing Snoke’s orders.

The recipe was fit for disaster, Kylo’s anger and Hux’s frustrated fear, and as all things it was destined to come to a head. When it did, it resulted in the two shouting at each other, Kylo’s words mangled by his helmet and Hux shouting all the louder for feeling vulnerable compared to Kylo who had some amount of a shield.

“Are you so incapable of basic dignity that you can’t keep yourself in line for a single _day?_ ” snarled Hux.

“You understand _nothing_ about what I am charged with,” replied Kylo, the same amount of vitriol in his voice.

“Finding the map, yes, I do know that! It’s only what you’ve been engaging in childish rages about and I _will not_ stand for it any longer!” That foreign presence forced its way into his mind, oppressive and far from the almost gentle touches Kylo had tried to make it in the past. It hurt, it hurt a _lot,_ but Hux wasn’t going to admit that if he could help it. “Stay _out_ of my _head._ ”

“You’re pathetic, so scared of what Snoke will do to you if you don’t keep me in line. Scared what happens to your prisoners will happen to you? Or your Stormtroopers? Scared you’ll be subject to conditioning?”

Hux had no defense against someone pressing into his mind. It meant he had very few ways to retaliate now that Kylo had decided to be cruel. But Kylo hadn’t restrained him, and he did have a nasty habit of assuming that just because Hux had never been on a battlefield he had no combat experience at all. It was sheer instinct, and because of that he didn’t think about it so Kylo was caught entirely off guard when Hux punched him hard in the stomach.

Immediately Kylo doubled over, wheezing from having the wind knocked out of him. “I understand plenty well the pressure you are under, _Ren_. You are asked to fulfill a task nigh impossible and so am I. Yours come from Leader Snoke. Mine come from him _and_ from High Command. You’re to find a map, while _I_ am to keep you in line as well as maintain Starkiller and make certain that the flora of that planet does not die in transit. I have neither time nor patience to deal with your childish tantrums. Now get out of my quarters, I don’t want to see you.”

Turning away and picking up his datapad, Hux ignored the sounds of Kylo regaining his breath, and didn’t turn when he put on his helmet and left, instead focusing on the messages before him. The beginnings of artificial dormancy were beginning to be performed in the northern hemisphere, a few new reeducation slips, and the daily report he demanded from the Oscillator.

When the door closed and he was alone, he set it back down, and placed his hands on either side of it on the desk, head hanging down between his arms. It was Kylo who had first been cruel, he reminded himself. Kylo who had forced his way painfully into Hux’s head and who had torn at what he found there. But still it hurt, somehow, having to send Kylo away.

The Knight had taken root in Hux’s heart, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that, the idea that his heart could make him vulnerable at all.

This wasn’t his fault and he stood by that fact. He would continue to stand by that as long as necessary. Apologies were a foreign concept to Kylo, but Hux wasn’t going to blindly forgive. And he stood by that for days following, pouring himself fully into work and not letting himself wish for anything else than for the projects he was overseeing to come to fruition.

Over the next few days, Hux’s world barely reached beyond the _Finalizer_ and the planetary weapon it orbited. Being the commanding officer of a ship that housed as many people as a decently sized city as well as an entire planet-turned-military-base was more than enough to take up all his attention, but there were moments when Kylo’s absence was noted. In a breath of free time, when he read about the fall of J’lean Empire’s State Religion by way of the emergence of mystery religions, shadowy faiths with more secrets than answers, Hux found himself looking for Kylo to share some comment about how the Knights of Ren could have flourished in the Late Imperial Age only to find the room stubbornly empty.

A report came in that Kylo had taken a shuttle to Starkiller, but far from the populated areas again and it was the first Hux had heard tell of Kylo since he had sent him away. Last time Kylo had diverted his course from the base to the depths of the forest, he had destroyed a copse of trees, but this time, there was no reported damage, even if they couldn’t find the Knight himself. It certainly didn’t answer the question of what Kylo was doing there, but at least Hux didn’t have to worry about losing any more oxygen than he already would.

He should be glad to have Kylo out of his space, Hux tried to rationalize even as he hoped that every chime at his door was Kylo. He had thought to himself more than once that he felt stifled by the Knight’s constant presence. It didn’t matter that he had become used to Kylo’s heavy warm weight on his leg as he meditated, it didn’t matter that Kylo used to listen to him with interest and enthusiasm when he spoke of the most recent articles he had read and what conclusions he was drawing from them. It didn’t matter because his leg had fallen asleep before from Kylo’s weight there. It didn’t matter because he was still very friendly with respected professors who could actually engage him in conversation about it.

“My word, you could write a paper of your own at this rate,” said Dr. Riil, laughter making her words shake.

“I am far from an expert, Doctor,” demurred Hux. Granted, he had asked some rather complex questions, but when had he not?

“Oh General, my students have all written ten page papers at this point, you certainly are right there with them.”

“I’ve plenty enough work as it is, I don’t really have need of more.”

“I certainly wasn’t going to assign you a paper, General, though I’m sure if you did it would be very good, and I could tell my students all to be more like you. You know, I truly believe not even half of them do the required reading, perhaps I should tell them General Hux of High Command does all your readings too on top of running the nation. That might get them in line.”

“Doctor.”

“Apologies. Now, as for your questions. The King of Kings was the ultimate authority, yes, and he was the sole leader of the nation, at least until they split it into fourths near the end, but his attendant families were still very important. They were…I suppose you could call it court, in a nontraditional sense as you would understand it. They were called the Learned Ones, and were all members of nobility who passed civil service exams so that they could serve as advisors and high judiciary figures.”

“You say as I would understand it?”

“Yes, yes, you think of imperial courts as being in close proximity to the emperor, do you not?” Hux thought back to the stories of how the most important families in the Imperial age all had a home on Naboo by the end, as well as one on Coruscant, and always in the same districts, and nodded. “For the J’leans, the imperial court tended to their own lands, and returned to the capital for important calendric events. The Learned Ones were judges in their own lands, and were rather migratory aside from that, coming to the King of Kings when called and arriving for the larger festivals as well.”

“Tending to their own lands? You mean to say that power was spread out?”

“No, the power remained with the King of Kings. But they were not fools, General. They let cadet rulers hold some form of power beneath them, it made governance easier and kept them from looking too high on the social ladder. I sent you an article about Miajugist pottery? I should send you one about Deroh, the King of that same area. He kept contact with King of Kings Andian, tried to keep him at bay, though it did him little good. Apologies, I’m getting off topic. The noble families held power and owned grand areas of land only by grace of the King of Kings, and they had to be at the imperial palace for all major holidays, festivals, and whatever celebrations he should ordain. They had to stay in his good graces if they wanted to keep their titles and land wealth.”

“So when the Empire fell, those families became the war lords before planetary union?”

“Yes, General, they were. There was no King of Kings to take their land from them anymore, and they each crowned themselves, and over the years those were no longer war lords but legitimate rulers of legitimate countries, some of which rejected monarchies and remade themselves under different political structures. Now they are our cultural heritage counties, and there are more in what was once the Empire than many other places in Yvinia. A similar process did occur to the southeast, I believe, in the Iwi provinces, but I am no expert in the history of that area. Very complicated, I don’t pretend to understand it.”

Did the ancient world ever cease to leave its trace, Hux wondered as he found himself asking without even thinking about how it made him sound, “That’s where heritage counties come from?” Immediately, he was mortified. He was one of the _leaders_ of the _nation_ and he just admitted to one of its citizens that he was horribly ignorant about the very nation he led.

But Dr. Riil just smiled and said, her eyes shining with indulgence in a way that Hux wasn’t sure how he felt about, “Yes, the divisions had to come from somewhere. Yvinia united into one central government the way most planets did soon as we realized there were other people out there who wanted to talk. But no one could let the old countries just vanish, there was too much history. We used to wage war against each other, every nation had the blood of another on its hands, just look at the J’leans. So we have a single government with which we joined the Order and with which we do politics with other planets, but for our day to day life, we are very loyal to our counties. I imagine it’s the same everywhere else.”

“Is it that marked a difference between counties?” asked Hux, unsure of why she was so patiently explaining something he should have known long ago. “I admit, I have very limited experiences with planets.”

“Oh yes. Landan University is in the heritage county of Ramsay, and it certainly is different from Yabern. An anthropologist would be better at describing the differences. There are a few Space Children who have committed a few wrong steps socially before, it does seem to be an affliction very unique to your generation, General.”

Hux bristled at the comment. His generation was constantly viewed as some curiosity, like a social experiment, and he really did tire of being defined by the conditions of his childhood. There was a book that was famous in the Order to his distaste, written on Sfera by some philosopher who examined their own society through the eyes of a Space Child who was ignorant and untouched by it. There was this idea that Space Children were available for all thought experiments, as if they were a _concept_ and not a generation that didn’t _ask_ to have the childhoods they had. “Thank you, Doctor, for describing my generation as afflicted,” said Hux, tone sharp.

“I meant no offense, I do apologize. I only meant to say that few Space Children have really come to note the differences between cultural heritage counties. It is very difficult to tell the difference unless you live on the planet, and so many of you seem to have gone into the military, is all I meant to comment on.”

Taking a breath, Hux let go of that frustrated anger. Dr. Riil didn’t deserve it, and so he would leave it. Instead, he turned back to the J’leans, and left the question of whether or not his generation could understand what was left of those old countries for another time.

As promised, Dr. Riil did send him plenty readings about the cadet rulers and the tributary system in place from each of them. He would have started reading them immediately after the call was disconnected, if not for the fact that he was called away by duty.

* * *

“You sent for me, General?” asked Phasma, dropping her salute elegantly.

“On two counts, yes,” said Hux. “First regarding yourself, captain, and the second regarding Kylo Ren.”

“Sir?”

“I sent you a request quite some time ago about the reeducation slips I have received from your division. There are more slips for subordination of rank and disregard for the dignity of officers than there should be. I wanted to know why that had been the case. And you have yet to answer me.”

“The cause is…more diluted than we would have preferred,” said Phasma calmly. “Conformity has its downsides.”

“Explain,” snapped Hux.

“They conform to themselves. If there is any sort of culture there, they conform to it.”

“Are you saying that my men, whom have been conditioned _since birth_ have a _culture_ of disrespecting their betters?”

“I am saying, General, that somewhere in the ranks the idea has been introduced and whenever we recondition those who display such traits, it simply deals with them, not with the source so they keep conforming to it. But with it so diluted, it’s hard to find the source. It isn’t being taught to them by us, but all internal leaders _must_ be the most loyal. It started across all squadrons, so we can’t even simply recondition the original squadron.”

Hux stared her down, searching for an indication that she might be lying to him. He was very good at dealing with people in masks. She showed no signs of falsehood, none of her usual tics that gave it away. Finally, nodding slowly Hux said, “You have proven yourself in the past, I see no reason to distrust your abilities now. But this must be dealt with _as soon as possible._ I won’t have my troops propagating a culture that breeds uprisings.”

“Yes, sir. And about Lord Ren?”

That was a trickier subject. He didn’t want to give anyone the power over him that knowing of their involvement would grant, but this was still important, knowing what his absent lover was doing. And not just for selfish interest, Hux assured himself. He may have found himself missing the knight under the anger that still hovered around thoughts of Kylo, but this wasn’t about that. This was about the fact that he had, for all intents and purposes, gone missing. “He has been suspiciously nondestructive recently.”

“I would have thought you would be glad of that, sir.”

“I am. But I don’t know _why_ he’s suddenly stopped or what he is even doing, and I don’t like it. I don’t trust it.”

“Do you want him breaking things or not?” asked Phasma, the cadence of her voice ruthlessly flat. It was simple for her; Kylo broke things and people and it was a problem, he stopped and it was a relief.

“I want to know where he’s disappeared to. If he isn’t destroying anything on the ship or the base, he’s destroying elsewhere, and at this point, we cannot lose any more trees. We already lost over half the planet’s oxygen producing life and we can’t survive if he decides to cut down a whole forest. I want to know how many he’s killing by not thinking beyond himself.”

“Shall I send a squadron to find where he’s going?”

“Yes, thank you Captain.” Dismissing her, he turned back to the work in front of him. The Academy had just had its graduation, and his commissioned graduates were due in the next few days, both those he had personally commissioned and those generally assigned. Their arrival wasn’t anything he had to worry about, though he did like to be aware of it. But it was that Force Theorist he was interested in, he’d want to meet with her eventually. He’d have to keep her safely away from Kylo, however, that much was certain. She would be useful for how to try and direct him in battle, not for sending her up against him and ending up strangled because of some theory she had.

Why did everything revolve around Kylo these days? The knight had slotted himself into nearly aspect of life and Hux did not appreciate that. He needed a moment where he wasn’t thinking of Kylo, no matter what arrangement they had fallen into.

Signing off on dozens of permissions and reviewing dozens of reports, he was surprised when there was a chime at his door. Unlocking the door for entry, Hux’s low burning frustration flared up at seeing none but Kylo Ren himself appear there. Still, for all that there were large gaps in security footage due to sheer size, there most certainly was one trained on his office door and he had no desire whatsoever to have some low ranking grunt see him lock out Kylo in a fit of frustration, and for that he allowed Kylo entry.

He was still angry at Kylo for what he had done, and was prepared to strike at Kylo in defense again if he needed to, or to swiftly banish him from his side, and yet as soon as the door was closed, Kylo removed the mask. It took a great deal of willpower to grasp at and cling to that anger in face of how Kylo looked at him with such a wounded expression.

“I have stood neck deep in fresh water and did not partake for days,” said Kylo without greeting or preamble, his tone somber and serious. “I have stayed awake until I saw things that were not real, I have stood in the face of a hurricane and did not move. I have endured such trials, ones you yourself have described as torture, but nothing has felt as torturous as your dismissal of me.” Kylo set down the helmet and spread his hands helplessly as he said, “I wanted to bring you good news, give you coordinates for the next piece of the map. I’ve meditated far more often than I should. But you center me and let me work far better than I could on my own.”

Hux took a breath and said simply, “You were cruel.”

“I know. I fear it’s in my nature. I am sorry.” That was the apology Hux hadn’t ever expected, and though his anger did not fade, it shifted sideways, let him feel how much he had missed Kylo. What a thought, he hadn’t thought he’d ever miss the man. But still he had managed to, and now all that emotion was striking him between the ribs like a knife sliding home.

“I do not forgive you for what you did,” he said slowly. “But I know that you are far from graceful when it comes to anything relating to another person. If you _ever_ do what you did again, if you ever do anything even remotely like it, I will send you away from me and never let you back.”

“And if I don’t?” whispered Kylo, sounding and looking afraid to hope.

Hux took a breath before looking the man in the eye and saying, “Then I will keep you at my side. I’ve managed to miss you somehow, for all you did.” The expression on Kylo’s face did not change, but his eyes did, suddenly gleaming with muted happiness. Hesitantly, he approached, looking as if he expected to be sent away at any moment. Hux did not stand from where he was seated, and despite that he had to look up at Kylo, he felt a current of power race through him. Did the Edan Emperors feel that way? Was that why they had writ in stone that none but the Empress may sit when the Emperor did?

A gloved hand rose up, rousing him from his thoughts of Edan custom, and hovering by Hux’s jaw until he nodded, allowing it to press there, allowing a finger to trace the hinge below the ear. Despite the glove, it felt warm. It felt right, as unsettling at that was.

“Every time I meditated, my mind could not reach out, it kept returning to you,” confessed Kylo. “I left the ship, went to the far side of the planet, but distance did nothing. I couldn’t cast my mind away from you.”

“Careful, you sound sentimental,” said Hux, his voice just off his normal tone for how surprised he was of the simple honesty in Kylo’s words. He didn’t do well with such strong emotions, but Kylo was a creature almost solely of feeling and he simply would have to get used to it, it seemed.

If Kylo had his way, Hux suspected, they would have remained like that for ages longer; perhaps Kylo would have meditated against Hux’s knee as the general worked. But that was not the case. Instead, he had to contact Phasma and call off the search for Kylo and still he had a meeting with senior staff of keeping personnel aboard the _Finalizer_ from fraternization or other vices while they were essentially called upon to do nothing for the moment.

If Kylo decided to follow him around as a menacing shadow, then there was very little Hux could do to keep him from that decision.

* * *

Come that evening, while Hux kept working, Kylo sat calm and relaxed in something that looked like meditation even if he wasn’t going totally limp and things weren’t floating around him. Hux almost envied him that calmness. Apparently there was a regiment of minutemen on Otau that had actually managed to assassinate a major government leader and now due action had to be taken. General Xiu was already on Otau to make statements in the name of all High Command and to oversee the trials of those men. It was falling to the rest of them to figure out exactly how much power local regiments should be allowed in the wake of this.

There were proposals that there should be a merging of military and local police forces, there was thought that they should simply make statements about letting the planet deal with itself and leave it at that, and Hux wasn’t putting forth his own suggestion because he was reading into the history of the Heritage County that militia had come from and trying to find out _why_ one of them was on record in court saying that it was inevitable, that the governor had been unfit for his station and therefore it was in their rights that they should have done what they did. Dr. Riil had made him think, and perhaps, he thought, perhaps honoring what those on the planet saw as a great divide of custom and culture would be the best approach. If only he could understand what exactly that divide _was._

Alright, there wasn’t an almost about it, he _did_ envy Kylo his odd calmness. Letting himself take a sighing breath, he tried to dive back into the old regions of the country it used to be before it was a Heritage County and startled when Kylo said, “You could just say that you’re too busy to take notice of one assassination.”

“There are two things wrong with that statement,” said Hux. “First, it is my job as a member of High Command to help actually run our nation, and second I cannot be apathetic to an assassination done by my _own_ citizens to one of my _own_ governors.”

“High Command is not going to kick you out for not having an in depth solution to one problem, I mean.” And now a hand was on his shoulder, pressing down slightly and oh his shoulders were nearly hunched weren’t they? “Just put forth a proposal, you don’t need to be digging into old records like that. Do you have contact with some archive on Otau?”

“These are all public records, Kylo. One of the assassins claimed it was inevitable, I want to know why.”

“Let me help.”

“I beg your pardon? Help? When have you ever helped?”

“You are going to run yourself ragged.”

“Why are you so calm?”

“You’ve allowed me by your side again,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the galaxy. And maybe it was. Still, that was too close to the heart for Hux to deal with at the moment, and he shoved a datapad at Kylo, cutting off the emotion.

“You can read on the history of the Heritage County if you’re so intent on helping.”

It was only minutes later when Kylo said, “These are worse than military reports.”

“How would you know, you never do reports,” said Hux, surprised when Kylo smiled to himself to hear it. “Military reports and historical articles function the same way, they’re written to be read by an audience who already has a basic understanding of the situation.”

“And you have that understanding?”

“No, but I am used to reading these. At least try, Kylo.”

The old federal divisions each had their own old ordinances of law, but there was nothing about legality of murder. Not that he really expected there to be, murder tended to be frowned upon in most cultures, after all.

“‘The rights of this nation declare that it shall never be below another, and on this most glorious day we declare that if the people of this land are so requiring of violence as a means of preserving this right granted at the birth of the nation we bear witness to today, then as the children of this nation we condone the removal of the leaders deemed by the governed as unfit, by force if we so need,’” read out Kylo. “Is that what they’re referencing?”

Hux’s head whipped around to stare at Kylo. “What is that?”

“They declared themselves a sovereign nation with this. I assume that this is what makes them believe they could assassinate someone.”

“I would say so.” Dr. Riil had said that people were still very loyal to their heritage counties, did that mean these minutemen believed that they were in the right? What implications did that have now that the heritage county wasn’t its own nation? Did any other county have the same sort of cultural history that would take inspiration from them?

Taking the datapad and reading the transcription of that old document, a plan began to take shape and form. Raise the question in the Cultural Heritage County of how well they adhered to the founding principles of the ancient nation and how much those ancient nations still mattered, and let the courts dispense internal justice. High Command would be regarded favorably for bowing to local history and custom, and whoever took over from the dear departed would be more cautious so as not to rouse ancient rights of assassination.

“Could they really just declare themselves a sovereign nation?” asked Kylo, idly flicking through the datapad that Hux had set down.

“It depends on the context of the nation,” said Hux distractedly, already preparing a proposal citing the declaration Kylo had managed to find. “If they were ceding from another nation, then it was usually done by declaring war, and they could only write up a document declaring themselves a nation if they won that war. If there were nations around them that viewed the land they lived on as unclaimed then yes, declaring themselves a nation is entirely logical and oftentimes necessary.”

“And which exactly did the First Order do?” Hux’s fingers stopped typing, and he turned to Kylo, wishing he didn’t have to fight so soon after he let Kylo by his side again, but before he could say a word, Kylo continued, “You know full well I am born of the Republic, I don’t know all of the Order’s history.”

It was easier to believe Kylo was the source of all the discord in their arrangement, but as time went on, Hux was forced to realize that he was certainly to blame for part of it. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was a point where it would be silly to do otherwise.

“The Order grew out of existing loose trading relations in the Western Crescent,” he said eventually. “Morpila was being threatened by a nearby warlord, Manon, when the exiles first came. We were mercenaries, originally. It took a long time before they allowed us more than refueling and resupplying rights. When it became known that Morpila and its trade allies had Imperial Star Destroyers fully manned and armed as their protectors, Manon came to war and tried to take them back under his control. It wasn’t made public that there were whole families, many of them civilian families, onboard our ships. We weren’t allowed any settling rights when we arrived. Plenty died in that war before Snoke appeared to help. After that, the planets Manon had held wanted us to be their protectors. Each planet was its own nation, there was no central government. High Command originally organized the military alone, and eventually coordinating between all the allied planets became a central government. The Order declared itself a nation without having to cede from another.”

Kylo nodded slowly, watching Hux work with a contemplative look on his face. Once he had sent in his proposal, then he had to deal with the fact that there was discord about that oil spill in Sfera. Apparently there was concern that it wasn’t cleaned adequately enough and now High Command had to find a way to prove that the water was, in fact, clean. And after that he _still_ had a starship the size of a small nation to run as well as an entire _planet_ and Captain Phasma had yet to cull that disrespect among the Stormtroopers, apparently. The list went on and on and on and if he just focused on proposing a solution regarding this assassination then he could compartmentalize and it wouldn’t be overwhelming.

“Do you want me to look through the Stormtroopers’ minds?” asked Kylo.

“Why would I let you do that? I need them respectful, not comatose.”

“I’ve been in your head.”

“Yes, and you leave me with headaches every time.”

“Do I?” That made Hux turn. Was he really so unaware? “I’ve tried to be gentle. I suppose I wasn’t careful enough.”

“I suppose so…” Kylo? Trying to be _gentle?_ Had he fallen asleep at his desk and was dreaming? It wouldn’t be the first time…

“I have to take care not to break you, Hux,” said Kylo, and Hux bristled at the implication that he was someone who needed to be treated gently. “My Knights are just as strong as me in the mind, some even stronger, and Master Snoke is stronger than all of us combined. I don’t have to worry about what I will do to them. But you have no strength in the mind as they do, and I care about you far more than I do prisoners, so I try and take care with you where I don’t with them. But you’re strong enough that I’ve never seen you suffer from any ill-effects, and I never realized.”

Hux settled at that, relaxing and starting to think that that was oddly sweet, in its own way. Kylo knew enough to _try,_ at least. Rather startlingly, he began to wonder when _he_ had ever tried. An arrangement like they had had to work both ways, and things certainly had changed since First Accord. He found himself actively _caring_ for Kylo now, and he couldn’t expect to just act as if he were putting up with him.

It was a rather sobering realization, if only because he didn’t know then how to act.

“If I were to take care, comb the minds of the Stormtroopers for whatever discord there is among them regarding officers as I would comb your mind, would you permit it?” asked Kylo, drawing Hux from his thoughts.

“I don’t mind if they have a few headaches, but do try to keep them from going mad,” he said eventually. Kylo nodded, and settled back into something that looked like it could have been meditation if not for the tense line of concentration around the eyes and the hand that curled into a claw against his knee.

Hoping he hadn’t made a mistake, he turned back to work, answering concerns of Starkiller, of the _Finalizer,_ of the nation as a whole. Yet passing off the concern of the Stormtroopers felt as if a weight was no longer on his shoulders. The rest felt…doable.

And Kylo sat there, unmoving, while Hux managed to actually finish all his work for the night. And he sat there as he readied himself for bed. And he sat there when Hux cautiously knelt before him, unsure what to do, if rousing him would do more harm than good. It had been hours, should he try and wake his odd knight?

As if in answer to that thought, Kylo’s eyes opened, and he smiled to see Hux before him. “I was getting worried,” said Hux. “You were out of it for such a long time.”

“There are thousands of ‘troopers, you know,” said Kylo, dragging Hux into his lap and ignoring his complaints. “I could feel you getting worried too. So I came back.”

Held awkwardly sideways in Kylo’s lap, Hux tried to settle into it. Why was Kylo so insistent about touch? “Well, you didn’t have to,” he said. “I’d have been worried, but I would still be fine.”

“Yes, but I’d rather you not be worried at all. You worry about everything all the time, if I can take some of that away I will.” Hux said nothing to that. “I couldn’t find it,” admitted Kylo, pressing his brow to Hux’s shoulder. “I hate their minds, they’re…they’re not _right._ But I’ll keep looking.”

“What do you mean their minds aren’t right?”

There was a long moment of silence before Kylo said, “They’re…imagine a fruit. And it looks fine from the outside, but somehow, something’s taken out bits from the inside. Like…almost like bubbles in glass. When it’s blown by a person and not by a machine.”

Hux had never seen glassblowing to know what the difference Kylo was trying to allude to was. Frankly, he barely saw any glass. It was fragile, even when tempered, and was irresponsible to have on a star destroyer. After a point, transparisteel was just more common.

“I assume this is more of the Force that’s beyond me,” said Hux instead, but Kylo shook his head slowly.

“It’s just being able to see what reeducation does to someone.” There was silence a long moment before Kylo said quietly, “I’m not a citizen, you know. Not officially. When I left the Republic, I was a child, and I didn’t leave it for the Order. I left to join my Master. We’re the protectors, us Knights, but we aren’t part of the system, not really. I didn’t come of age with it as you did, I didn’t come to you agreeing with your principles. The Stormtroopers are…I don’t understand them.”

“We need them,” Hux said, not unkindly. It was just as when he told Kylo of the ancient Empires, explaining to him in simplified terms. “They can’t be disloyal, they don’t know anything else. You put someone into battle, someone who’s raised with a life, and it does irreparable damage to them. War is absolute hell, Kylo, you should know that. But if there’s a class that’s never seen anything _but_ war, then they’re not destroyed. They _can’t_ be, because they don’t even know that there are novelists out there, or musicians, or anything in the entire galaxy _but_ war. They have to be kept as they are, if we aren’t to collapse from what we are asked to do. We keep officers away from the front lines, keep them from being torn apart, because they will be.”

“Torn apart,” echoed Kylo, with some ugly noise that danced between being a sob and a laugh, pressing his face further into Hux’s shoulder. “I know plenty well about being torn apart.” Hesitantly, unsure if this course of action was either correct or wanted, Hux placed his hand on the back of Kylo’s neck. It was a simple gesture, but to Kylo it seemed to be akin to being anointed by some deity for the way a breath rushed out of him.

No words were spoken for a long time before Hux cleared his throat and said, “The new graduates will arrive here tomorrow. I want the Force Theorist to meet with you. Will you be in any state not to murder her?”

“She’ll not meet her end tomorrow, I promise.” His voice was still quiet, but it didn’t sound so wrecked.

“Nor any other day, I should hope.”

A twitch of Kylo’s lips approached a smile as he said, “In the foreseeable future, I shall not kill her.”

* * *

Graduates tended to be reservedly enthusiastic, and that was true of this newest bunch as well. Their commissions were still halfway apprenticeships, the most minor of assignments given as they settled into an unfamiliar ship and months before they were trusted with any classified information. Hux never really bothered with them beyond picking them out, but with the Force Theorist changed things.

Second Lieutenant Aisha Vanel was a wisp of a thing, short and spindly. In a way, Hux was reminded of himself when he had been that young and freshly commissioned but that he had been at least a foot taller. She was more than likely able to handle herself, creating her own specialty adjacent to a planning or command track. Cadets didn’t take well to those who were different, Hux remembered. Yet all the same he insisted on being there for when she first met Kylo. He was to keep Kylo in line; that had been passed down to him by Snoke himself, and he would do it.

“General, it’s simply a meeting of the minds, respectfully I can’t help but wonder why you would feel the need to come,” she said, organizing her notes while Hux watched coolly, waiting for Kylo to arrive.

“Lord Ren does not hold himself back,” he said mildly. “If something displeases him, he will destroy it so that it may not displease him again. Usually that is reserved to objects. But it isn’t always. I was sent your thesis, Lieutenant, and I was rather impressed by it. Unfortunately, Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa are rather tense subjects for him.”

That seemed to sink in, and suddenly Second Lieutenant Vanel was straight backed, blank faced, and intently focused. Good, Hux thought. It would serve her well.

Kylo, when he came, barely spoke, offering only one or two words to Second Lieutenant Vanel’s questions, and seemed to be sizing her up just as much as she was him. It was like watching two predators circle each other, Hux thought. Both determining the threat and risk of the other without letting them _know_.

“All intelligence says that Leia Organa never truly received training for her Force Sensitivity. What would lack of training breed in a User?” asked Vanel, her fingers dancing over her pad, typing frantically but distractedly, refusing to take her eyes off Kylo in front of her.

“Lack of control,” said Kylo shortly. “A Sensitive who never trains and then tries to use it will only hurt those around them. Even at my most careful, going into another’s mind causes headaches for them. I am nearly finished with my apprenticeship, Second Lieutenant, imagine how someone who has never been taught will feel.”

Vanel blanched at that, but turned back to her notes. Vaguely, Hux began to wonder if Kylo was purposely terrifying this woman or if he was telling the truth. Still, he had his own work to attend to, ignoring this meeting beyond listening for if he was needed to intervene.

“And if she were goaded into using it, would she be likely to hurt her own troops?” the question was directed at herself, as though she were still writing her thesis.

It was dismissed with a mangled scoff from Kylo. “Organa has never once actively used the Force. If you can find a way to force the situation, you will be the first.”

“Never once? How would you know?” But Kylo refused to say any more on the subject, no matter what questions Vanel posed.

As soon as the meeting came to an end, Kylo stood and swept out, leaving the two officers behind. Hux stood calmly, accepted Vanel’s salute and returned it in kind, before striding out to a meeting with the terraforming team. Induced hibernation was already in progress, and oxygen tanks were already in use by those who were obligated to be outside the base on Starkiller, now mere breaths from completion.

It made his palms itch, the thought that they were so close to completion. But if that was the itch of anticipation or anxiety was still up for debate.

* * *

Kylo was waiting for him in his rooms when Hux retired for the night, fingers tapping some staccato beat of anxiousness against his helmet. An anxious thread wound through Hux in return, wondering at what that meant. Was he going to be prevailed upon to deny Kylo something again? He had seen the man’s form bare before, studied the shadows where he could have been mighty and powerful if not for the fact that he starved himself. Half the man’s strength had to come from the Force and not his own muscles, from what Hux had seen.

“I have reflected with the mark of my order,” said Kylo swiftly, almost eager to get the words out. “I am to meditate and seek the map to Skywalker tonight, but I need you to ground me tonight more than ever.”

He hadn’t been expecting that.

“You mean more than you usually ask of me?” said Hux, clearing his throat for how he hated the way his voice seemed to waver.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Despite the tapping of his fingers, Kylo seemed to be centered. It wasn’t the ease granted by meditation, but as if his whole being was condensed to that one moment. It was unnerving, and for all that Hux refused to bow before Kylo, he found himself agreeing to help, however he could.

He ended up sitting on the ground, letting Kylo’s head rest in his lap, reading aloud First Order proclamations, of all things. How this helped, Hux didn’t manage to get an explanation for, but Kylo sunk into meditation, lifting everything around them three inches as always, listening.

“The people of this Order, having been given this homeland by the union and agreement of sovereign planets, have little in common with those they have welcomed to their breast. The Order, born of the ashes of an Empire, carries with it the weight of the past,” he read aloud, the speech given proudly when the Order had annexed its first system after the original Accords. How was this to help his troubled Knight, exactly? “Yet with its birth came the beginning of a new history, one that is destined to bridge that weighty past with the glorious future. This destiny, manifest by this peaceful expansion we have borne witness to today. In the old ways, that which we bear with us and will honor unto the last, such a nation must be born of bloodshed, and yet today we see our destiny lies beyond the warfare of the past. What friend of peace could deny that?

“Yes, we are the nation of progress, who do not fall back on the bloody old ways to prove our memories but instead carry them into a civilized union. Today we show the galaxy and those who doubt us that this nation we celebrate the growth of to be the true way forward. No destruction was needed to build our future, we shall not fall into retrograde, we will climb onward to our mission towards the galaxy; order and peace among those who cower from terrorizing war lords and those cast from their homes to wander in exile. This is our destiny, eternal as the universe itself. We shall smite unto death the unjust and corrupt and carry our sweet proof of peace and order where now there is chaos. Who can look upon us today and doubt that?”

He remembered hearing this broadcast. He had been a few weeks from his first commission, chest full to brimming that his nation, the one that the New Republic had never deemed fit to even acknowledge and when they did only spat upon, had begun in partnership and now grew in peace. Could the New Republic claim that? They destroyed and caused untold death for their nation, but the Order _hadn’t._

Reading this speech of peace now, Hux realized those itchy palms had been fear. The Order meant to destroy the Republic. But hadn’t they once celebrated under the banner of peaceful annexation? Hadn’t the military been born as protectors for their adoptive planets? When had their pride at their new nation become enough to stoop to the Republic’s level?

Yet hadn’t his parent’s generation built two different weapons to destroy? Hadn’t they been so proud of that tradition that they should make Starkiller at all? He liked to think himself immune to propaganda, having a hand in creating it and all, but all the same the thought clung like a film of dust; how much had he absorbed without questioning? Was peace truly the basis of the Order? They spoke of the partnership of the early days, the peace of their growth, but he was orbiting the largest weapon in the galaxy to date. And it had been approved by High Command who made these speeches of peace.

The Edans had crushed all those who challenged them and revolutionized military strategy on Ni’k and prided themselves on everything but warfare. But that didn’t mean that their opponents were any less dead.

This wasn’t going to help Kylo, he thought, turning back to the speech and continuing on purposefully. This could wait, he decided, reading on.

He finished that speech and pulled up the next one he could immediately find, and another after that. Through it all, he rarely felt Kylo brushing against his being as he had before. There was tension in him, even in meditation, and Hux did not like it. This was different, somehow. This session of meditation was different from when Snoke told Kylo to meditate as often as possible, different from when he chastised Kylo for the same. It felt like carrying some priceless work of art on unsteady feet. If they succeeded the reward would be great, but if they failed, the loss unimaginable.

Unsteady, Hux just read out another speech. This one the call to arms given every year to bring as many as possible into the Academy and its daughter schools. He had had to give it before, but rarely. It was felt to be perhaps too dynastic for him to entreat the nation to his father’s schools, and that suited Hux fine.

He was reading out the seventh speech, his throat dry and catching on a word here or there, when everything dropped down suddenly. The noise was startling, and he jumped, heart beginning to pound. Kylo’s eyes opened, and they looked glassy and dull, as if someone had replaced them with marbles like stuffed hunting trophies. Uncertain what to say, if he should say anything at all, Hux just watched as Kylo sat up, his face dropping into his hands.

“I have been a coward and a fool,” breathed Kylo. “I never sought anything close to my old life, I didn’t want to think of it.”

“What are you talking about?” managed Hux, swallowing in an attempt to ease his throat. The hoarse quality didn’t seem to even faze Kylo, and neither did the words, for a long moment.

“In my search for the map to Skywalker, I refused to go anywhere near what was once my life, refused to think of what I had been before I joined my master. Second Lieutenant Vanel showed the folly in that. I found it.”

“Where is it?”

The answer came in a whisper little more than a puff of air, and Hux would never have heard it was he not so close to Kylo and listening so hard.

“Jakku.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come find me on tumblr at starkilleraflame.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *GPS voice* in one chapter, make a left turn at canon

There was policy in place that a Knight of Ren could pretty much do anything they deemed necessary for the safety of the First Order. There were exceptions put in place, they could not legally be exempt from murder of an official, nor could they be forgiven for a variety of instances of cultural destruction. If one of the Knights destroyed a cultural landmark there would be no amnesty, and they would certainly be punished for murdering the leader of an organized religion. But to take a flagship they were technically a co-commander of and go to a sparsely populated desert planet? That was entirely legal, even if High Command had ordered them to stay put now that Starkiller was so close to completion.

The only downside was that there had to be dozens of messages and calls made to clarify the situation as being under that policy. It took two weeks of back and forth before there was clearance to go. If it had been an emergency situation, this would have come later, but as there was no pressing time concerns, the careful order of allowing such a thing to happen was observed. Kylo spent those two weeks doing his own version of pacing; that is, terrorizing personnel and snarling at any minor inconvenience. Hux was the only one who was not faced with this, perhaps because he was the only one who recognized that Kylo was actually rather anxious at facing his old life again, whatever that meant.

And still, when they entered hyperspace directed to Jakku, Kylo became eerily still and intense. And that was more frightening than anything else he had done. People turned around when they came across him in hallways, Stormtroopers absolutely refused to enter the hallway his quarters were in, walking double speed or flat out running to get where the needed to be without taking that hallway.

“Where exactly on the planet is the map?” asked Hux, reading a report of the newest members of crew and pleased to see the were settling in well enough.

“Southern hemisphere, near the equator,” said Kylo shortly, sitting still as stone and staring at nothing. This had become worryingly normal. “There is a small village there, mostly Alderaanian diaspora. Their leader has it.”

“Alright. Do you have any coordinates?”

“No.”

“Can you get them?” prompted Hux after a moment.

“This isn’t something you can step in and hide while I steal it like on Sargan,” said Kylo instead. “I know that man, and he knows me. If I stand before him, he will not fear me. I will have to kill him for it. I don’t fear killing him, I just hate to see him again.”

“Just try not to kill the whole village?” said Hux, who hated saying it, but there had just been too much recently. “If they are Aldaraanian diaspora, that might give Organa enough power in the Republic to stop being a fringe resistance group.”

Mentioning Organa had been the wrong thing to do. Kylo shot to his feet and walked silently out, and twenty minutes later there was a flood six floors below from a slashed open water pipe and a message consisting of coordinates and nothing else. Hux still didn’t know why she of all people caused such a violent response, but thought to himself he’d keep quiet about her for the sake of his ship, and so that Snoke didn’t start wondering if he was failing at his duty to keep Kylo in line.

When they finally arrived at the dusty brown planet, Hux stared down at it for a moment and thought to himself that had transparisteel not become the standard, Jakku could have made a roaring trade of glass works what with all the silicate sand. But instead it languished with hundreds of wrecks of crashed ships and millions living so below the poverty line that the poverty line looked like the sky. No one had wanted it, it wasn’t Republic nor Order, and how they survived down there Hux wasn’t entirely sure. But they weren’t his people, and he certainly had enough to deal with that vague thoughts about the life of a planet that wasn’t his was not worth his time.

Phasma and a small battalion of Stormtroopers would be going down too, because villages on planets like this were always armed, and if Kylo truly did know their leader from a previous life, then they might just shoot on sight, and Kylo could not stop barrages of blaster bolts by himself.

Things would be fine, he told himself, watching the collection of shuttles head down to the planet. Kylo was protected by Phasma and her most capable soldiers, he would get the last piece of the map Snoke had instructed him to find, things would work out.

* * *

Apparently, they learned from interrogation of the Resistance pilot who had somehow managed to get himself caught and spirit away the map all at once, the First Order needed to work on its security, because the Resistance had known for a _week_ that they were coming to Jakku. Apparently the village had been quietly abandoned but for trained fighters, which explained the loss of life on the part of the Stormtroopers.

But for all that, there was nothing about where the map was. No one could get anything out of him, and frankly the grudging respect Hux had for that lodged in his throat and made him want to gag. So, in they sent Kylo, who could do what no other could do and just take the information from him. As for afterwards, the pilot would just be a prisoner of war or whatever name they could give to him as no war had been officially declared.

But then, of course, because why not, all hell broke loose, and everything fell apart. The pilot _escaped_ with one of the Stormtroopers, they fired at hangar command and seriously injured twelve officers, killed at least twenty three Stormtroopers and sixteen officers and pilots who tried to bring down the TIE fighter in the hangar, and if that wasn’t enough it meant that programming _wasn’t completely effective_ and put the entirety of the Stormtrooper class in question.

And, naturally Kylo was being absolutely impossible about it.

A squad was sent down to the planet where the stolen TIE fighter had crashed, and they found nothing. It was sinking sands, they were informed. The wreck would have been swallowed up. And so the squad was sent to the nearest settlement, an outpost in the middle of nowhere that only scavengers working for food instead of pay ever went to. It was littered with husks of old ships that people had made motions towards repairing but never finished, as well as desperate spacers landing to buy a part or two scavenged from the hundreds of ships crashed into the planet.

But, it did also contain FN-2187. The number was going to be burned into Hux’s mind for the rest of his life, he’d wake up with the number in mind before he knew the time or the date. Even if he was killed by the TIE fighters soaring down after him and the droid that _of course_ he had with him, he would never fall from mind ever again.

Reports came in, FN-2187 and some scavenger had taken one of the old wrecks, somehow still functioning, and got both TIE pilots killed because no one thought the cannon on the damn thing would still be _working_ , and he had gotten away into hyperspace. There was nothing to be done, scavengers would be peeling communication systems off the corpses of the pilots and leave them there to cook, the droid with the _map_ was gone, and a Stormtrooper had _completely broken all programming and jumped off who knew where._

“Go inform Lord Ren,” snapped Hux at the first officer he saw. The map was Kylo’s to deal with, let him know, _he_ had enough else to deal with.

Funerals were to be held for those killed in that mad flight out of the hangar, this whole thing had to be reported, security in the Order’s military was already in question and now a massive portion of it was questionable as well. Not only would he be dealing with High Command demanding how this could happen, he would have to deal with Kylo doubtless going into a rage and perhaps then Snoke being furious that he could not keep Kylo “in line” and there was also his father who would be vibrantly angry that the program he had started should fall through.

Sure enough, despite that General Delan was planetside in the middle of the night, she was still sharpened steel as the call put through, saying, “I expect you have _some_ plan to recover from all this?”

“Seeing as the ‘Trooper disappeared into hyperspace six minutes ago, no I do not have one yet,” said Hux.

“The whole Stormtrooper program will have to be halted,” said General Sen. “If any one can break free, who knows about the rest?”

“At the eve of war? To lose our entire foot army?” asked General Xiu. “We have to strike while we can.”

“To what _end,_ Xiu?” snapped Delan. “If Hux gives the order and it fires, yes we destroy the Hosnian System. But that does not guarantee anything about crippling the Republic’s ability to go to war unless their Senate is in _session_ , which I will remind you it is _not._ The Chancellor will die, yes, but that is the _only_ guarantee. They never make public the successor, they could survive and we’ll have committed and act of war with a crippled army.”

“But if we don’t halt the program–”

“All it does it put every foot soldier into question right as we enter war,” interrupted General Yhen. “We cannot wage war if half that war is held against our own troops.”

“Doing internal review is going to take weeks,” added Hux. “Even if we halt the program. But it is the only way we can be sure this never happens again.”

“Why not have Lord Ren scour their minds?” asked Xiu.

“He has done that before, believe it or not. He reported back that their minds are not shaped like others, and to understand them actually takes quite an amount of effort. Even that would take longer than we would like.”

“Starkiller is only effective when no one knows about it,” said General Sen. “The longer it’s completed and doesn’t fire, the more dangerous it is. And if the Resistance has broken into our records and communications somehow, then it’s only a matter of time before they find out about it.”

“Which I sincerely hope your people are fixing,” said Delan sharply. “The Resistance is a rogue group, they’re not tied to the Republic fleet. Even if they find out about Starkiller, they’ll have to deal with getting Senatorial approval to _do_ anything, they can’t possibly do any damage without the fleet.”

“But if they can break into communications who knows what else they can get into?” pointed out Hux. “There’s no guarantee they won’t find the trajectory equations and won’t be able to show those to the Senate. They’d be the ones declaring war and we lose the advantage.”

“Firstly the Stormtroopers need to be halted and reviewed before we can wage any war,” said Yhen. “Whether or not Starkiller is still classified can come afterwards. It’s still powerful, and even if the Senate meets to sign allowance for their fleet to attack it, it can still fire. But if we have lost our own army, it does not matter what weapons we have if we have no one to fire them.”

“I’ll give the order to halt and review the program,” said Hux, a datapad in hand already doing so. “I’ve ordered the Finalizer back to Starkiller, at this point it needs the protection. At this point it’s in our best interest to spread information through the fleet through verbal meetings, keep things from being sent in communications channels until we are certain they are secure.”

“We would need transcripts made, and if we aren’t trusting our own communications systems…” said Xiu uncertainly.

Edan court records, Hux thought. Marked carefully down to the minute. “Historically, transcripts were made by people,” he said. “It’s simply a matter of assigning someone to write it down, rather than a droid. If each party has a transcript made, there would be no need to send them among ships at all.”

“And what epoch is that custom from?” asked Delan, looking as if the hour her time was finally catching up to her and rendering her exhausted.

“It doesn’t matter _when,_ that is probably the safest option we can take,” said Sen.

“A whole new system of verbal communications would have to be put in place,” said Xiu tiredly. “They would have to be constantly able to take a call and record information.’

“Would you rather the Resistance keeps sticking their noses into our operations?” asked Yhen. “If the government is in danger, the entire nation is in danger. It may be difficult, but we have our own to protect, you know.”

The majority of the trip back to Starkiller was spent hashing out the beginnings of that system, before ending the call to start putting it together. Officers would have to be taken from their duties to be always ready, others would have to fill their roles. It was no small task, but of no small importance either.

The _Finalizer_ dropped out of hyperspace and entered orbit, like a parent bird staying close to its nest to protect it, and by then Hux had found twenty eight officers that would be in constant rotation to take down all messages, while the communications officers would share the load of _passing_ the messages. The intraship communications had yet to be broken into, at least, that much was a comfort. They were setting about calling the other ships and bases, establishing the new process, and Hux turned to verbal communications in every other aspect of military communications. The Stormtrooper program would report to him through the officers, weapons manufactuers would have to hire secretaries, the Homefront would likely be enough that General Yhen would need a small battalion of reporters to deal with that alone.

It was a massive endeavor sloppily thrown together with nothing more than desperate hope that firstly it would hold and secondly that the Resistance couldn’t tap into actual calls. If they could do that before the security got tightened…Hux didn’t want to think about it.

Starkiller already only had communications with the Supreme Leader, which meant that a courier system of information was already in place, and thus could efficiently be mapped onto other bases, and Hux was in the midst of giving orders to explain the process and present it to all exceptionally vulnerable bases when that sole communication switched on. Snoke wanted to talk, it seemed.

He spent the entire time the shuttle took him down to the base memorizing exactly what steps had been taken to throw together a completely different communications system to keep the nation secure until the breech could be fixed and how the Stormtrooper review would progress to eliminate any chances of a repeat of FN-2187. Snoke did not like people reading off anything when speaking to him. It would be memorized or it would not be spoken of. All he could hope was that it would be enough for Snoke.

Kylo had been summoned too, and they stood side by side before Snoke, waiting for him to speak. He looked deeply, deeply displeased, and said in a voice like a weapon charging to fire, “I hope you have a plan to recover from this.”

“We have done our best,” said Hux. “Already most of the fleet has begun to use verbal communications, the beginnings of a secretarial class of officers is being put into place. Courier systems, for the most sensitive information as well, and General Sen is focusing his people into reinforcing the security breach. The Resistance should not be able to worm their way in anymore. The Stormtrooper program has been halted as well, and every ‘Trooper will be reviewed so that we can see where the conditioning might have failed in FN-2187. The review–”

“I mean the _droid_ , General.”

“The…the droid, Supreme Leader?”

“It will soon be delivered to the Resistance, leading them to the last Jedi. If Skywalker returns, the new Jedi will rise.”

“Supreme Leader, with all due respect, the First Order has just suffered a major infiltration of its communications systems and the entirety of the Stormtrooper class has just been put into question. There has been word put out among the spies, yes, but the main concern is to our own nation.”

“General!” snapped Snoke, surging to stand and stare down at them. Hux felt as though he was being admonished, as if he was concerned about the wrong thing, but there was a _nation_ at stake, not just warring factions of Force Users. “Our strategy must now change.”

That was as close as Snoke would get to saying that the concerns of High Command could and would be brushed aside. With what those concerns were, at the moment, that settled like a black hole in Hux’s stomach. Kylo was silent beside him, unmoving and unnerving for it.

“The review of the Stormtroopers must go through,” persisted Hux. “Even with Starkiller, we cannot go to war with every foot soldier in question. Half the war would fought against ourselves.”

The regard Snoke placed upon him for saying that was cold and piercing, like a needle sticking him through to pin him down. It didn’t help that Kylo was silent and still beside him, more like a figure carved from stone than a living man. Force Users could speak to one another inside their minds, was Kylo having his own conversation with Snoke? Even if he wasn’t, Hux felt completely alone. He knew Kylo’s allegiance was to Snoke before him, and in that moment he truly felt it.

“Go then,” finally dismissed Snoke, sitting once more. “Tend to the nation.” Hux looed to Kylo as he left, but the Knight didn’t move, and he left feeling weakened, somehow. He was fairly certain he had lost some amount of respect in the eyes of Snoke, and he did not want to think about how much. And he didn’t want to think about how he could lose respect in the eyes of the Supreme Leader for caring about their nation before Luke Skywalker. 

* * *

 

Starkiller was finished, but everyone held back from mentioning it by name even as Hux shared that fact with High Command, a Petty Officer typing out a transcript behind him at the meeting, every other General with their own secretarial officer the same. He did not say how Snoke dismissed any concern but those of the Force, he did not give voice to those old lingering fears about how perhaps Snoke…didn’t care.

Instead, he listened as General Sen told them how to create something the Resistance couldn’t simply keep pace with (“We have no idea how entrenched they are into the old system, they managed to get communications about one of the Knights of Ren making a protective decision”) they had to rip apart the entire communications system and build anew. It would not be easy, but it was what had to be done.

The Stormtroopers were being reviewed, but it had to be careful. They didn’t know who had heard of FN-2187, and so the process had to be subtle. It was tricky to evaluate them without it being obvious, but they couldn’t exactly let it be known to anyone else who was thinking of defecting so violently that the opportunity was directly in front of them. None could be reconditioned until the problem was established to be outside of that program, and none could be commissioned until the training program was secure.

The entire Order was at a standstill, and they couldn’t let anyone know. If the Republic heard how a small rogue group had injured them so completely, who knew if war wouldn’t be declared? So, they worked frantically but secretly. All communications back home to families or civillians from all levels would be reviewed, to make certain that there was no word to panic the populace. Hux himself simply dropped all correspondence, speaking to no one and focusing on his work.

Kylo had been on edge since the meeting with Snoke, and while Hux could understand, he couldn’t do anything. They were like two separate fires that if they met would only grow stronger, and neither could afford to lose their heads any more than they already were, with the current situation. Hux didn’t have _time_ to miss Kylo, but he knew the second things began to calm down he’d start to long for his mercurial knight again.

When High Command finally parted ways to get back to work, Hux had barely signed off when news came through from one of the spies that the droid had appeared in some old bar filled with the dredges of society, and Kylo immediately demanded pilots and troopers in large amounts to get it back. “A small force managed to get destroyed by FN-2187 and the scavenger,” Kylo said, having delivered the news and lying in wait outside the meeting room of High Command. “That mistake will not be made again.”

“Clearly he has no problems killing his fellow comrades,” agreed Hux. “Talk to Phasma, she’ll assign a battalion with little interaction with the traitor. If they’re too close, who knows what he managed to spread before he left.”

FN-2187 was, according to Phasma, once on her list to be promoted to leadership. That meant he had contact with a wider range of ‘Troopers than was comfortable. Were all those reeducation slips about subordination of rank and disregard for the dignity of officers somehow tied back to him? Still, a battalion with less interaction than others was quickly found, and with seven or so TIE fighter pilots and Kylo’s own shuttle, they set off to retrieve the droid, and if they could, the traitor. At least then Snoke would be pleased.

As they left, Hux turned back to making the nation as secure as he could as well as the regular running of a ship and a base. It was harrowing, exhausting work, and there were yet funerals to be held for the pilots lost on Jakku. The longer that went undone, the more upset the pilots would be and the higher chance for their upset to become disloyalty.

So, while Kylo was off, Hux cleared twenty minutes of his time to hold the funerals. They wouldn’t be too emotional, that would be left for the families who had been immediately notified with sincerest regrets, but they would be held. And as always with the pilots, they would be allowed to sing their mourning song, even as it sent chills down Hux’s spine to hear it. Apparently it gave the pilots some amount of comfort, and their profession was one of the most dangerous, so whatever raised their morale was allowed, no matter how terrifying.

With a short routine eulogy, they shot two blaster out into the void, to travel forever in the darkness of the universe. Two bolts of energy to go on forever as their comrades could go on no more. And then Hux had to stand silently and listen as the pilots sang together, “He hit the ground, the sound was ‘splat’ the blood went spurting high! His comrades they were heard to say ‘a hell of a way to die!’ He lay there rolling ‘round in the welter of his gore, and he ain’t gonna jump no more! Gory, gory, what a hell of way to die! Gory, gory what a hell of a way to die! Gory, gory what a hell of a way to die! And he ain’t gonna jump no more! There was blood upon the risers, there were brains upon the ‘chute. Intestines were a-dangling from his paratrooper suit. He was a mess, they picked him up and poured him from his boots, and he ain’t gonna jump no more! Gory, gory, what a hell of way to die! Gory, gory what a hell of a way to die! Gory, gory what a hell of a way to die! And he ain’t gonna jump no more!”

He didn’t know why they insisted on singing such chilling songs, but they did and if he didn’t allow it they’d probably turn on him and he could not deal with that.

And then seven new funerals had to be held nearly immediately, because every TIE fighter had gotten shot down out of the sky on Kylo’s mission. Because the Resistance had shown up and started mowing down Stormtroopers and shooting down pilots and for half a second he was terrified that Kylo had gotten shot down too.

But no, Kylo returned to Starkiller in perfect health, and without the droid, without FN-2187, but with a scrap of a girl in his arms, completely unconscious and with orders that she be ready for interrogation. A scavenger, her collarbones and ulna poking out in a way that spoke to malnutrition. The scavenger FN-2187 had escaped them with? Why?

“Why her?” asked Hux. “Why not the droid?”

“She’s seen the map,” answered Kylo sharply. “I can take it from her.”

“Was the droid destroyed?”

“No.”

“Then why did you not take it? You _know_ the human mind cannot perfectly retain visual information.”

“Hux, Leader Snoke has put this to me since you displayed your disinterest. I will do how I see fit.”

“ _Disinterest?”_ echoed Hux, his pride smarting and feeling a snarl want to push itself into his words. He felt like he did when Kylo had first come aboard. “We have suffered an _immense_ security breach on _two_ fronts at the exact same moment! Which put the entirety of the Order at risk! I do not have _time_ to go after a single droid for warring factions of Force Users, I took oaths to protect my nation before all else and I have to _honor_ those oaths.”

“The best way to do that would be to keep the Resistance from getting to Skywalker, or getting to him first. If the Republic can train up new Jedi–”

“The best way to protect my nation is to keep it from being plagued by traitors and to keep its governance secure! Not going after a mystic who has done absolutely nothing to the point most people don’t even think he’s real! At the _very_ least, you could have made a decision to get _concrete_ information, not some scavenger’s poor memory of the event!”

“I saw it in her mind, _clearly._ ”

“Yes, but she is a _scavenger._ A life of malnutrition and constant stress. _Both_ of which impede memory. She probably couldn’t tell you nearly anything about her early childhood, much less remember the _exact_ route of the map!”

Kylo did snarl then, rounding on Hux and he refused to feel afraid, even if his instincts were telling him to. “If you are finished, I will try and pry the information out of her before it fades too much. Go back to your job, and leave me to mine.” Kylo stormed off then, and Hux took a long deliberate breath before he did return to his own work, fists clenched tight at his sides.

He had to send condolences to the families of the seven pilots recently shot down and someone had to tell Snoke the droid probably _was_ in the hands of the Resistance now and it wasn’t going to be him, and anyway he still had every Stormtrooper to review, Phasma had results from her own testing of the Finalizer ‘Troopers (or at least a majority of them) to look over before they started into those based on Starkiller. Kylo could reap what he would sow in this _alone._

He was halfway through reading through the report Phasma had given him when Sergeant Furcht approached and said, “General, a Resistance X-Wing is in orbit of Starkiller.”

“ _What?_ ” he snapped, and he was allowed that much. This complicated matters even further, and things weren’t smooth to begin with. “Have they been shot down?”

“No, sir. We don’t have weapons that can reach that level of orbit onbase, and they are keeping on the other side of the planet from the Finalizer.”

Dozens of plans went sparking through his head before he said, “Let them go.”

“Sir?”

“ _Track_ them, obviously, but they will lead us back to where the Resistance has been hiding these days. If nothing else, the Hosnian System will have to be the second target.” That might not go down well, but no pilot would take off just then, not fresh out of one funeral with another to come in a matter of hours.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you think that’s wise?” asked Phasma as Furcht left, and he could _hear_ the raised eyebrow beneath the mask.

“Right now ‘wise’ is not an option, only ‘what causes the least damage,’” said Hux. “We only have a matter of an hour or so before they jump, we have to do what we can. Even if we shoot them down, the Resistance already knows our location.”

“We don’t have the manpower to go into a direct fight, and firing the weapon will only alert the Hosnian System and the Senate to what we have on our side, and we lose the element of surprise.”

“If you have a better suggestion, you have my permission to speak plainly and tell me.” His voice was tight and his whole being felt like it had been twisted into knots, and she didn’t say a word. Determinately, he turned back to her report and continued to read through it, trying to find any patterns or major anomalies that would solve _this_ problem.

No solutions were yet found for the Stormtrooper problem, the Resistance was based in the Ileenium System, and Kylo was speaking to the Supreme Leader because his interrogation had _failed_ somehow, and Hux was a forest fire of anger and an electric charge of tension waiting to strike at something and he couldn’t even set that aside to be surprised that Kylo was unmasked while speaking to Snoke. The Supreme Leader was _angry_ and it was objectively terrifying to see as he roared at his apprentice.

“The scavenger resisted _you?_ ”

“She’s strong in the Force!” Kylo was saying, and it seemed absolutely no one had a level head these days, but Kylo was the last he’d expect to remain calm while everyone else was panicking. “Untrained but stronger than she knows.”

“Ren believed we only needed her, and not the droid,” snapped Hux, stepping forward. “And now the Resistance has found our base, doubtless due to FN-2187, and they have the map.” Things were falling apart faster than they could repair them.

“Then there is naught to do,” said Snoke, his voice still crackling with anger. “The Resistance is powerless without the Republic’s fleet. The moment they tell the Senate of the base they will fall behind Organa and her lot. Destroy the fleet. Prepare the weapon to fire on the Hosnian System.”

There had been plans in place to assemble all officers, pilots, and Stormtroopers, to make a grand speech to inaugurate the weapon, but it would be found out about in a matter of hours. If they gathered everyone together, who was to say a space-to-planet weapon wouldn’t be launched, and who was to say if every ship in the Republic’s fleet fired their shields would stay and to gather everyone would be to raise a massive target for all strikes to be levelled against. There would be no speech, no inauguration, they would just have to fire.

Snoke’s anger spread through everyone on base, it seemed, as no one seemed able to keep a level head as the order went to prepare the weapon. Everyone seemed afraid of their Leader’s rage, or the incandescent destruction of Kylo’s. The scavenger was running around the base, somewhere. Because of course she was. Every time he turned around things were worse and worse and if this was why Kylo had hesitated so much to even look towards Jakku he understood why.

He was exhausted, felt as if he hadn’t slept in years, but there was barely time to _breathe_ , getting the weapon ready and finding a scavenger who seemed like she had disappeared into the wiring in the walls for all that no one could find her. Snoke felt as though he was a constant presence hanging over them in his anger, Kylo was somewhere and there was a still smouldering wreck of an interrogation room that bore the brunt of his ire, and it was Hux’s responsibility to “keep Kylo in line” but he couldn’t do that any more than _find_ the man.

And then a Major came and told him in soft tones that in the midst of draining the star, the shields were down. That would destroy their weakened atmosphere unless they were put back up immediately. Oxygen would be sucked out of the atmosphere, cosmic rays would slam into the planet and _that_ never meant well for anyone at all. And then a shout of alarm raised up, and his head whipped around to see a panicked officer say, “Sir, a fleet of Resistance X-Wings is on planet. They’re firing on the Oscillator.”

This was too coordinated. The shields going down to suffocate personnel, the Resistance showing up, firing on the one piece of machinery that would allow the star to reconstitute itself. Someone had told them, and it wasn’t too hard to guess who. Perhaps they shouldn’t allow Stormtroopers, even in leadership positions, to be privy to that much information?

He ordered return fire and tried to console himself that they had built the thing thick enough that no fire could pierce it. Nevertheless, with the danger posed, more than one evacuation shuttle was readied and the _Finalizer_ moved out from where the new gravitational force would be too strong and drag her to her death. It would be worse than how Sargan killed ships, because they would bake alive first. He stood staring at the battle happening just at the horizon, the bright flashes of red and green with an occasional bright burst of flame and he couldn’t help but calculate how much oxygen was needed for each of those, how many breaths were wasted in a last blaze for a pilot on his side or the Resistance’s. He barely turned to issue orders, and only stared out into the darkening outside, as if he could see the shields going back up or the battle ending in their favor. They just needed a few more minutes, that’s all they needed. There was a scream building in him, begging to be unleashed, but it had to stay in his throat.

“Sir, the Supreme Leader wants to speak to you,” said one of the communications officers, and Hux’s hands fisted even tighter. Nodding tightly, he started to head to where Snoke was doubtless mounting to a terrible rage. He hadn’t taken more than five steps when a terrified cry of alarm rouse up. He turned swiftly, and found that everyone was staring out towards the Oscillator. Which had plumes of smoke rising from it. It was compromised.

“Start evacuating the planet,” said Hux, remembering the dire warnings of how long they had. “Sound the alarm!”

He suddenly felt calm, even as he ran to meet with Snoke, to tell him what was happening. He remembered the oaths he had made, he had stood by them and did not shy from them now. _Do you swear before the nation that your life shall be last even as it is first? That you will go calmly to the slaughter if it would save even one life under your command?_ Snoke would order him to perish on Starkiller, to die alongside the weapon. He did not fear it even as the ground shook mightily under his feet, the planet engulfed in the beginnings of its death throes. He would die here, one more person could live in his place, and the nation would continue on without him. He had done his part.

“Supreme Leader,” he said, flinching away from a massive part of the ceiling crashing down. “The Oscillator is compromised, the collapse of the planet has begun.” And now Snoke would tell him to die. That was alright, he expected it.

“Find Kylo Ren,” said Snoke instead, voice soft but still echoing even over the roar of the base destroying itself. “It’s time for his training to finish. Bring him to me.”

* * *

 

The next thirty or so minutes passed by in a blur he couldn’t quite understand, even after the fact, sitting and staring at his shaking hands, his vision filled with blue for how he forced himself to watch the star reconstitute itself, tearing apart the planet and slaughtering anyone who couldn’t get away, pulling back more than one shuttle from increased gravity and cooking them alive before it could be melted to slag.

The Oscillator had been compromised and then _blown up,_ and Kylo had been unconscious in the snow outside it, injured by the explosion. The Resistance had all gotten away, thousands had perished, and Kylo had a piece of metal that was once part of a door lodged in his side and was undergoing intense surgery to ensure that he would live another few hours, let alone to finish his training.

That was what was making his hands shake, Hux thought distantly. He’d be delivering Kylo to the Trial of the Senses, and with all that had been happening, he didn’t actually want to do that. He _wanted_ to cry, to scream, to do _something_ that would make him feel even slightly better that under his watch the First Order’s finest and first weapon had been destroyed and the majority of its army had come suddenly into question. The Order was vulnerable, and the blame for that was firmly on his shoulders.

His hands still hadn’t stopped shaking.

Still, he got them to work enough to pull up the list being compiled of fatalities. Thousands, one after another, updated in real-time as the lists were made. Stared and stared, vision filled with blue and masking the names, staring without comprehending. Somewhere, the pilots would be singing again, not a whole day after the last time.

_Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die._

The ones on base wouldn’t have been conscious for too long. The ones on the shuttles surely knew what was happening to them, felt themselves be pulled back. He closed his eyes a long time, unwilling to see the list grow and grow.

Breathe in. Tense the body. Breathe out. Release the tension. Breathe in. What needs doing? Breathe out. His people needed orders. Breathe in. What would he order them to do? Breathe out. The _Finalizer_ had to take Kylo to the Supreme Leader, that was the last clear order.

But could he deliver Kylo to Snoke’s hands?

Breathe in. Tense the body. Breathe out. Release the tension.

Now wasn’t the time.

Standing on legs he forced to hold him up, he left his rooms and made his way to the bridge. When he arrived, faces turned to him in unison, pale and shaken and harrowed and hollow. “The last order we were given were to deliver Lord Ren to the Supreme Leader,” he said, and despite it all he was _proud_ of how his voice didn’t shake. “We will do that. And then we will go back to Morpila. When the dead are finished being counted, we will build them a pyre.”

The ship was turned to the corner of the Western Crescent furthest from the Republic, where Snoke stayed so as to be safe. The only remnant of Starkiller they left behind was a star just slightly out of place.

His hands wanted to start shaking again.

Whole dozens of people were being treated for exposure to cosmic rays, and when he went down to medical and saw them, he could see in their eyes that that last horrified evacuation of Starkiller would exist forever in their nightmares. He had a feeling if he looked in a mirror he’d see the same look in his eyes.

“The main concern is the radiation,” said the doctor he was speaking to, but both of them were looking only at the patients, all getting blood samples taken. “On a planet with a weakened atmosphere the concern is there in the first place, but with a star being drained _and_ the magnetic field gone, the risks are even greater.”

“Can you treat it?”

“Yes, but the danger comes mostly from the large number of patients. Even one patient is time consuming, but dozens…”

Hux nodded. “We will be setting immediate course for Morpila for a public funeral after Lord Ren is delivered. There patients can be divided among hospitals.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Has Lord Ren come out of surgery yet?”

“I don’t know, sir, but I can check.”

“Do so.” And then he was alone, staring at the people who were waiting to hear if they had been exposed to cosmic rays too long. Perhaps he should undergo that testing too, once everyone else was safely in treatment. He had gone outside too, after all. He had to, to collect Kylo.

“He’s still in surgery, sir.”

“Send word once he’s out. We can hardly deliver him to the Supreme Leader if he cannot leave medical.”

“Yes, sir.”

Turning, he returned to the bridge, watching the swirls of faster-than-light speed by them, and when he was sure enough his hands would not shake, he looked once more at the list of the dead. Still being compiled. But now the blue had left his vision and he could read the names.

Lieutenant Aam, Jocasta

Major Aben, Reizei

Petty Officer Aberth, Toben

On and on it went, names he had never seen before, names he knew too well. Still, he watched them go by as the list kept being updated, forced himself to read every name. He did not have the luxury to avoid this. He had made an oath to die so that even one of these people could live, and yet here he was breathing as the dead scrolled by.

Finally he turned away from it only for a moment, long enough to send a note to the communications officers and the secretarial class thereof. He was calling a meeting of High Command. He would tell them what had happened and plan with them the public pyre. Shroud burials, they had nothing more to offer.

He felt as if he had not slept in years, he was hollow and overfull all at once. All he knew was a death count of over a hundred required a public funeral, and this was the greatest loss of life since the old wars when he was a teenager, when Manon and Nar Umen and their like had held tight to their power and refused to cooperate with the fledgling Order. And it had been under his watch.

The meeting was set up to take place in twenty minutes, and he simply stood silently, watching the others appear before him. He wondered what he looked like. His transcriber looked as if they were holding it together only by a thread, he felt much the same.

“Starkiller has been destroyed,” he finally said, keeping his voice in line. “There was a coordinated attack from the Resistance, likely informed by FN-2187, that knew all our weaknesses and exploited them from the inside, forcing the star to reconstitute itself. The lists of the dead are still being made.”

Xiu let out a long shaking breath, and the others looked exactly how Hux felt. And then it was Sen who asked, “What is your course now?”

“The last order we were given by the Supreme Leader was to bring Kylo Ren to him. Afterwards, course is set for Morpila. We must have burials.”

“Yes, we must,” managed Yhen. “When the list is finished, have it sent to me. My channels will prepare the shrouds. I doubt the Resistance has much use of the lists of the dead.”

“How many now?” asked Delan.

“The last I looked it was over two thousand dead. Mostly ‘Troopers, but no small amount of officers and engineers,” said Hux. His transcriber looked ill to hear the number. He felt ill to say it. The rest of High Command looked no better.

“We’ll start planning the day of mourning,” said Yhen. “When do you expect to arrive in Benau?”

“I cannot say. The Supreme Leader may turn us away immediately or he may keep us a while.”

“We will set the funeral in three weeks’ time. That will give mourners enough time to come and to find those they have lost.”

“Fulfill your orders, Hux,” said Xiu. “When the work is done, then we can start to mourn.”

It was only when he returned to his rooms and saw a message to inform him that Kylo was out of surgery but under close observation and while in no immediately obvious danger could not be seen by anyone for at least a few hours that he lost that weak hold he had over himself. He simply dropped, his head into his hands and sitting heavily in his chair, staring without seeing and then suddenly seeing a drop or two of wet on the ground between his boots.

_Oh. I’m crying._

And he couldn’t seem to stop. He wasn’t sobbing, his breathing wasn’t at all disturbed, but new drops spilled from his eyes at each blink. Distantly, even he could realize it was odd. He heard once that tears were the way the body purged out excess hormones. Was his body finally realizing the stress response from the planet cracking apart beneath him wasn’t needed anymore? Was this adrenaline easing out of his system?

He was glad he wasn’t actually crying, he was largely certain he’d hate himself even more if he actually started crying. At least this was simply biological. In a few hours, he told himself, he would go see Kylo and make certain for himself that his foolish Knight was at least on the road to recovery. In a few hours after that, he would deliver him to the Supreme Leader and tell himself again and again not to think too much about how sensory deprivation was torture. Tell himself not to think just what he was surrendering his lover to.

* * *

 

Radiation wasn’t too widely spread, but the cases that they did have were not insubstantial, and it was only because he was a Knight of Ren that Kylo did not have eleven or so roommates all hooked up to their own medical devices to treat the buffering of cosmic rays that poisoned their bodies. Hux had been told gently but firmly that he should be tested for it as well, for Kylo had one of the worst cases of the lot, being unconscious outside for so long, and he had gone outside to collect him. He would be tested later that day.

As it was, he stood by Kylo’s bed, staring down at him and wondering when he would wake. His Knight looked a mess, bandages all over his side, his wild hair tangled all about his face, drips pouring some clear fluid or another into him. It didn’t look like Kylo, but someone else pretending to be him, someone else so weak and brought low, for Kylo couldn’t be.

“They don’t blame you, you know,” said Kylo suddenly, startling Hux.

“What?”

“Your followers. They don’t blame you. They’re all horrified, more than half are going to have repercussions of this for the rest of their lives, but they don’t blame you. I know you, you would worry about it before too long. They don’t.”

“Well. At least there’s that.” He wasn’t sure he could believe that yet, if ever. Kylo was fresh out of surgery and had a bad case of radiation poisoning and there was no way he could actually manage to get into everyone’s head and see how they felt. “Leader Snoke demanded you go to him to finish your training.”

“Mm.”

“This will be the Trial of the Senses, won’t it?”

“I know how you feel about it.”

“It’s _torture._ I can’t deliver you to torture!”

“It is the final test. I must not doubt my Master, I must trust him to care for me where I cannot. Do you trust him to lead the nation, but not his own apprentices?”

“I…” he didn’t know anymore. “I don’t know. Kylo, I just allowed the greatest loss of life since the old war lord days happen. I don’t know anything anymore.”

“Then follow the orders.”

“I _give_ the orders.”

“Then give the orders you can stomach, go from there.”

When had Kylo grown so calm? What had they put him on, exactly, that he was being so philosophical?

“How did you end up so injured?” he asked instead. Kylo turned his head away at that, saying nothing. “We don’t know how long you were unconscious outside, you’ve got one of the worst cases of poisoning from the cosmic rays.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t stand so close, then.”

“I’m to be tested myself soon.” Kylo turned back to him, eyes burning. “I went outside as well, you know. I had to fetch you.”

“You brought me onboard?”

“It wasn’t my most dignified moment, no.”

“You can’t be poisoned.”

“I think you’ll find it is in fact in the realm of possibility.”

“No, you…you _can’t_ be.” The worrying calm was gone now, fires like reconstituted stars in Kylo’s eyes and if he weren’t fresh out of surgery and suffering from radiation poisoning, he’d probably be tearing the room apart.

Something in Hux’s heart softened, and as much as this was _not the time_ to go soft, he still settled onto Kylo’s bed, hand touching his. “You impossible man. Do you think I really could have left you out there? I would have died on that planet with you, I’ll accept the possibility of being poisoned if it means you’re alive, here and with me.” And the part of his heart that had softened shrunk and felt cold as the planet he had seen destroyed as he said, “Even if it isn’t for much longer.”

“You always knew I’d test the senses.”

“You can’t be _addicted_ to your _senses_ ,” he hissed. Even as he said it, as he had so many times before, he knew full well Kylo would not heed him. Those halfway traitorous thoughts, especially towards a Leader who could read minds easy as breathing, they would lead nowhere worth going, but down the road he went anyway because the man he loved was suffering for it.

That was so much easier to think now, he realized under the blanket of anger. Nearly losing Kylo had put it into sharp focus.

“Even if that were true, you cannot change my training.”

“I would if I could.” His voice was tight with anger and fear and realization that he loved Kylo and that to leave him to what was essentially torture was going to hurt him just as much, but his hand remained gentle on Kylo’s. His foolish, impossible Knight was lain up with severe injury and severe poisoning, and he didn’t have much time before a new round of drugs to treat that poison would be administered.

Bending down, Hux pressed his lips to Kylo’s, barely anything more than just touch with another human being. When he pulled back, the burning was out of Kylo’s eyes, but he had to stand up entirely for the new surprised softness in them. “I nearly lost you. I’ve lost over two thousand people today, but I still can’t help but be glad you are not one of them. If you were, I don’t think I’d have room to grieve for even one other loss. You can’t ask me to deliver you to something that I understand as torture after that and feel nothing.”

Kylo was seemingly stunned a long moment before he said softly, “Bren…”

Hux’s heart leapt into his throat to hear it, without warning and choking him to the point where he felt he couldn’t breathe. That wasn’t addressing General Hux, but it wasn’t addressing Brendol Jr. who was to be his father’s successor in all things. That wasn’t even Shara Kypling who had corrected herself in person and professed to in her writings that she kept wanting to call him Brendol and remembering he was to be General, or his mother who only ever called him Brendol Darling, as if that was his name. Bren was someone new. Someone who was Kylo’s and no one else’s.

Of course that was when the doctor appeared with a droid loaded up with dozens and dozens of injections for every person suffering from radiation. The least of their worries were cataracts, the worst was death, and there would be no deviation from medication schedule so as to avoid those two and every fate in between.

Doctor-patient confidentiality meant too that Hux had to leave, and he almost didn’t want to. But there was to be order in one’s self above all else, and he knew his role and the role of the doctor and he did not fight it, instead taking his leave and going from where he had just become Bren into becoming General Hux once more.

* * *

 

The final death toll was three thousand six hundred and eighty five. Mostly Stormtroopers, but no small number of officers, pilots, engineers, technicians, and consultants. Nearly every terraforming expert had been killed in the midst of putting the planet to dormancy, only four of them in total remained and they were wailing a storm of survivor’s guilt probably due to the large amount of drugs they were on for the radiation poisoning. The pilots couldn’t even sing such was the toll, the ‘Troopers looked more like droids for how they walked mechanically about. It was understandable, he thought distantly, for they were raised and conditioned to be loyal to one another just as much as to the Order, and FN-2187 hadn’t blinked to kill thousands of them, it seemed.

Three thousand six hundred and eighty five.

The number sat heavy and dark at the front of his mind, even as he was poked and prodded and scanned and had blood samples drawn to see what if any ill effects he had. He could be poisoned like the rest. He could have gotten away, he hadn’t been outside long enough to clearly say one way or another.

He wasn’t sure he deserved to get away with living again, not after letting three thousand six hundred and eighty five die in his place.

“We’ll have the results in a few moments, sir,” said the doctor, and only then did Hux rouse himself.

“What are the chances?” he asked.

“It’s…it’s rather hard to say, sir. On one hand, Starkiller simply had a weak atmosphere, that alone raises the chance for damage, just like being at a high altitude on any normal planet does, but generally isn’t cause for concern. But on the other hand, there was a star being drawn into its core, and you went outside as that star was trying to break out again. I’m no astrophysicist and I won’t pretend to be one, but I have trained for radiation. It’s the photons that will do it, and stars like the one we drained probably had a few billion more years in it. That’s a lot of photons being drawn inside the atmosphere. Sweet Mercy particles wouldn’t find it hard to reach clear across the planet in only a heartbeat. If one of those got to you, then you’re likely in as bad a shape as anyone.”

“I thought Sweet Mercy particles came from deep-space.”

“Yes. From stars, which usually lose most of their energy by the time they reach the surface of the star, let alone of a planet. You had photons from the center of the star jumping around under your feet by the time you got off the planet.”

A low beep signaled the end of the blood work, and Hux was left with the rumbling roar of the planet screaming its death in his ears for a moment before she returned, results in her hand, reading over them silently. It was only a minute or two before she looked up and said, “Congratulations sir, you have a mild case of radiation poisoning.”

“I don’t have time to be in observation,” he said immediately.

“Good, because we don’t have enough beds as it is. Come down for medication every three hours, do _not_ miss a dose, and by the time we reach Morpila, we can probably put you on pills. You’ve got one of the easier cases, sir, if it were any worse I would have to order you as your acting physician to stay under observation even if it were in your own rooms.”

With that grim news, he was immediately injected with the first dose and warned to stay seated for at least ten minutes before going anywhere else. He saw why almost immediately, it made his head swim. He couldn’t get like this every three hours. But, he couldn’t let himself wither and die either, Kylo had been so upset at the idea that he had been poisoned. How would he tell his Knight? He couldn’t keep it from him, always having to go for his own medication before they could get him onto pills.

Kylo probably wouldn’t see him get to pills. The estimation had been by the time they got to Morpila, not to Snoke. Would Kylo even be alright be then? Hux’s was only mild but Kylo’s was horribly severe, he wouldn’t be close to done with his treatment before Snoke. Would Snoke say Kylo could get addicted to his treatment? He’d die if Snoke said that, his impossible Knight would die rather than be addicted, and what could Hux do? Nothing, and he wouldn’t get to be Bren again. He’d like to try being Bren, it was new.

A hand pressed to the back of his neck, the doctor pushing his head between his knees and instructing him to take deep breaths so that he wouldn’t pass out. “It’s always hard on the first dose,” she admitted once he was taking measured breaths. “It won’t be this bad again, I can promise that.”

The awful swimming of his head and thoughts did fade after a moment, and only then was he allowed to leave, with strict instructions to be back in three hours to keep to medication schedule, and he wasn’t fool enough to try and avoid that.

Still, he had to announce to the ship the death toll. They deserved to know the exact number. Even when ostensibly there was nothing to do while jumping to where Snoke was, there was still _so much_ to do.

There was no time to write anything approaching a speech, though he was given some suggested remarks at some point or another. He was exhausted and still felt somewhat lightheaded from nearly passing out not too long before, but this had to be done. After this he could sleep. Not for long, he had to be seen to keep his ship from falling into despair, but just for a short while. Just long enough he didn’t feel like death warmed over.

And so not an hour after his diagnosis of radiation poisoning, he spoke to the ship, which for all that it was overcrowded by the ship’s crew and the base’s surviving personnel fell silent to hear what he was saying.

“Today we bore witness to the greatest loss of life felt by the Order in years,” he said. “You all saw it happen, and you all deserve to hear the death toll. Today we lost three thousand six hundred and eighty five. We have our orders, we will to the Supreme Leader and then we will to Morpila to give the dead their due. What was to be triumph has fallen instead to loss, and we all mourn it. Today of all days we will mourn.”

That was all, he could not say any more, and no one could hear any more. He always did favor short speeches, ones that lasted only a few minutes rather than an hour or longer. And in grief, sometimes it only needed acknowledging before it could be felt and processed.

Remarks done, he did go back to his rooms and only removed his boots before curling on his bed, still fully dressed. He couldn’t do more than that.

Three thousand six hundred and eighty five.

Khee Ren foretold this, he suddenly remembered, but all it did was make him feel worse. She had seen that unless all care was taken it would be destroyed. So somewhere, he had failed at his duty and caused the deaths of three thousand six hundred and eighty five people.

He closed his eyes then, willing himself to sleep before he was due for another dose of medication, hoping he wouldn’t dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet Mercy particles are my reference to the Oh My God Particle because the fact that that is it's scientific name makes me smile.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be aware, Hux has some vague thoughts in the way of survivor's guilt in this chapter. Not technically suicidal thoughts, but just feelings of "I shouldn't have survived that" and "I shouldn't be alive right now." Just so you can be aware. It's never explicit, but it does occur.

Every visit to medbay for his own treatment, Hux made a point to visit Kylo. He couldn’t figure out how to tell his Knight that yes, he was being treated for radiation poisoning. Maybe Kylo already knew, with Hux appearing every three hours like clockwork, to visit after each injection. But then again, he had such an extreme case that his lucidness was often in question. Still, after every injection (which did get easier and no longer made his head spin so badly) Hux went to see him.

“How close are we?” asked Kylo, eyes drifting from the drugs in his system. He couldn’t focus on much for long, and it broke the heart Hux still wished didn’t rule him to see it.

“We are only a day away, now,” said Hux.

“Hmm. I’ve asked that before haven’t I?”

“You are heavily medicated right now, I’ll allow it.” He swallowed, hesitating, and then asked, “You will continue to get treatment, won’t you?”

“I trust my Master. In the Trial, he’ll take care of me. He won’t let me waste away.” Hux folded his lips, uncertain and unsure. It was one thing to be delivering Kylo to sensory deprivation, to torture, but adding on that he still had no small amount of recovery was worrying as well. At least the bacta treatments were helping the wound on his side.

“Do you remember how far along in treatment you are?”

“Not really, no.” His eyes were struggling to stay open now, but he kept trying to focus on Hux’s face all the same. “I don’t like everyone seeing me.”

“It’s only myself and one doctor. Every other room is filled with tens of people in treatment, but you have a room to yourself. When you’re better, I’m sure you could remove the memory couldn’t you?”

“Not that good at it. Quen Tor’s the one good at that.” His voice was drifting, it seemed he was being dragged down to sleep by his most recent round of treatment. “Maybe I’ll ask him.”

“Get some rest, Kylo. I think you’ll need it for what’s coming.”

With merely a sigh, Kylo did lose consciousness, and Hux was left there staring at him and wishing he could be as certain as Kylo. Certain he would live, certain he would continue to receive treatment, certain in his beliefs. His had been flagging and now he felt adrift and alone.

But some of that might have been from sheer exhaustion, getting no more than two hours sleep at any time to make certain he did not miss a dose of his own treatment.

A moment later, a touch to his shoulder shocked him awake, and he hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep in the chair. How long had he been asleep, was anyone trying to find him? It was the doctor who overlooked Kylo’s care, the man’s face serious and still. “Dr. Mabuse did say she was thinking of trying to find a bed for you,” he said. “It seems you’re suffering exhaustion, making sure to be here every three hours.”

He wasn’t commenting on how he had fallen asleep at Kylo’s bedside, and that was a relief even as he was ushered out of the room to his own treatment. Dr. Mabuse was waiting for him, and even she looked as though she was being run ragged. “I’m not giving you your treatment until I test you for exhaustion,” she said, her voice a blade wrapped in cloth, sharp but tempered. “And then I am going to ask for your consent to have your next two treatments applied while you are sleeping.”

Not surprisingly, she concluded he was sleep deprived to the point where it was comparable to intoxication and ordered him bedrest.  “Do we have your consent to come into your quarters and give you medication while you are asleep tonight?” asked Dr. Mabuse, staring evenly at him.

“You have my consent for tonight,” said Hux. Dr. Mabuse nodded shortly to hear it, and immediately turned back to her records.

“We cannot give you anything to help you sleep, with radiation treatment you cannot be taking any other medication, but I want you to get at _least_ eight hours of sleep tonight. The way your treatment schedule has been, I don’t expect that to be too much of a struggle.”

“Is there any chance of spacing out the doses?”

“No, but you might be able to get onto pills sooner than expected. Your body is doing a remarkable job recovering.”

“Is there the same prognosis for anyone else?” he asked, watching her prepare the injection.

“I cannot tell you, sir. Doctor patient confidentiality.” He simply nodded, and began to flex his fingers to loosen the muscle in his arm for the injection. He felt as if he was nothing but tension. “Stay seated for a minute or two, and then go to sleep, General.”

When he did make it back to his bed, he fell asleep before the end of a single breath, into blissful darkness. It was medical order and that took precedence over anything but a direct attack and so he could sleep and know he wasn’t abandoning his duties or his people. 

* * *

 

He awoke with a vague ache in his arm and a notice that one of the medical droids had administered the doses under the instruction of Dr. Mabuse. He had received two and slept for nine hours. Which meant now he had to go back to get another injection. And then he saw the notice. In an hour’s time they would have arrived. In an hour, they would deliver Kylo to Snoke and then immediately go to Morpila to spread personnel to hospitals for treatment and to hold the public funeral.

It had taken so long to get here, and yet no time at all.

Still, down he went to receive his last dose before he would be giving up Kylo, and he felt completely numb. His head stayed crystalline clear, and that only made it hurt more.

Kylo had apparently also become aware of this, because he was already forcing himself to his feet, snarling at his attendant physician who kept telling him to sit down at the very least and not to put on the helmet that probably absorbed just as much radiation as he had, who knew the damage he would do putting it back on?

“Ren,” said Hux soon as he entered the room, “are you completely set on disobeying medical advice?”

“I will meet my master as I should,” replied Kylo. “On my own feet and with the obscurance he orders.”

“You’re most likely to get cataracts,” muttered the doctor. Hux had the feeling that wasn’t really a problem to Kylo, and that wasn’t comforting. “If I give you the medical order to not wear it longer than you need to, would you remove it?”

“Don’t die, not after all we did to keep you alive so far,” said Hux, eyes boring into Kylo’s. Only then did Kylo nod shortly.

“I cannot meet my master without it, but I will remove it once I can.”

“Good. Get a new one, this one is irradiated enough to worry anyone,” said the Doctor. “You’ve seen Dr. Mabuse already, then?” Hux nodded shortly, hoping Kylo wouldn’t know what that meant. “I am not releasing Lord Ren from my care until I have the rest of his treatment regimen on hand to send with him.”

“And how long will that take?” asked Kylo, who looked snappish, weak, and determined to stay on his own two feet.

“Not more than half an hour. And if you would sit, I could start on compiling it so that I can release you from medical care earlier.” Only then did Kylo sit in the chair he had been urged towards, looking unhappy about it.

When they were left alone, Hux approached, a hand reaching to touch Kylo’s cheek. “I meant it,” he said. “Don’t die. So many have died, but I couldn’t grieve for any of them if you did too.”

“I won’t,” said Kylo. “When next we meet, I will no longer be an apprentice.” There was something in those words, something thrumming with power, settling into Hux’s spine like an ember. They felt true, like a promise, like a prophecy.

Kylo seemed to feel it too. It was a promise above promises they would meet again, and some of the tension eased from Hux’s shoulders to feel it. He didn’t tend to _believe_ in prophecies, but it was the closest word he could think of for what he felt. He would scoff and dismiss it if it weren’t a burning ember taking up residence in his spine, pulsing with his heartbeat and feeling more certain than gravity.

Kylo would survive the Trial of the Senses. But that did not guarantee anything else. Survival did not mean he would not suffer for what it would do to him. It was still as close to a promise as Hux was going to get, and he’d take it.

“I have to go lead the ship,” he finally said, a bit shaken from the depth and intensity of what he had just felt. Kylo merely nodded, and drew his face away from Hux’s hand, staring down at their feet.

“You are poisoned too, aren’t you?” he asked. “That’s why you’ve been here all the time, why you had to see Dr. Mabuse.”

“Yes,” affirmed Hux. “I have a rather mild case, all things considered. I don’t have a bed here because there are others who need it more than me. I should be on pills by the time we reach Morpila, where the others will be spread to hospitals.” Kylo nodded, but did not look at Hux as he did so.

“Go lead your people,” he finally said, and even still did not look at Hux.

It hurt to be so dismissed, but there wasn’t anything for it. 

* * *

 

Snoke ordered Hux and a few others to bring Kylo to him, Captain Phasma among them, even though she had absorbed huge amounts of radiation and now was standing only grace of a pair of crutches and sheer determination. Kylo took with him the collection of syringes and pills he had been prescribed, as well as a single box of possessions. If one didn’t know he had been poisoned by cosmic rays from above and below, he looked sturdy and stable on his own feet, but Hux winced to see him force himself upright where even Phasma had taken up crutches as necessary.

Snoke’s fortress was rarely used, it was from there that he broadcasted to the nation, there he had received Hux when he had first been promoted to High Command, there that his role as leader of the nation was played. But it was not there that the Knights lived and trained, nor where Snoke actually lived most of the time. That was somewhere most people were not sure of. It was on the planet, at least, but no one was able to give a better answer than that.

As it was, one of the Knights was standing by Snoke’s side when the delegation came, standing still and unarmed as far as they could see. That didn’t guarantee anything, though.

“Kylo, you have returned,” greeted Snoke, his voice almost warm.

“I have,” replied Kylo.

“And what have you brought?”

“The mark of our order above all else, as well as the remainder of my treatment for radiation poisoning.”

Snoke nodded slowly, and then with no further words the Knight at his side moved forward, taking what Kylo carried and together they disappeared through a different door. It was so sudden, so unexpected, Hux wanted to go after him, to say goodbye. But he could not, and so he would not let himself wish.

“You allowed Starkiller’s destruction,” said Snoke now, his voice colder than Starkiller’s snow.

“With due respect, Supreme Leader, there was no _allowance_ ,” started Hux, but the man raised a hand to stop him.

“I do not speak to you, General. I speak to your Captain.” Every head turned then to Captain Phasma, who leaned still on her crutches, short of breath from standing so long. “You deliberately lowered the shields when FN-2187 demanded you do so. Should you not have allowed him to shoot you than to allow thousands to die? Your General was prepared to die, why would you not be?”

There was a rustling in those brought down, and those who worked in Snoke’s fortress. This woman had been the one to allow over three thousand deaths just so she could live. This woman could be blamed, could be publically made an example of, justice could be served on her head.

 _If you start killing people to make an example of them,_ Hux remembered, _you end up ordering your last soldier to slit his own throat to be an example to himself._

“Captain,” he said slowly. “Why would you lower the shields?” He was not speaking in anger, he was not speaking in accusation. He hoped she could notice that.

“FN-2187 was accompanied by an old man and a Wookie,” said Phasma, sounding as if she was in front of a court of law. Given that she was in front of Snoke, she effectively was. “They demanded I lower the shields or be killed. By that time they had already killed six Stormtroopers at the least, their bodies were in the shield control room. But I knew the shift was to change in a few minutes. I stalled as long as I could, and when the new shift was to arrive, I did lower the shields. When they came, even with the bowcaster the Wookie held, it would have been six against three, and none would have mercy for the traitor. I believed the shields would be down for a single minute. I believed FN-2187 would hesitate to kill his fellows face to face and it would give us the advantage, he was always too empathetic. I was wrong. They killed the coming shift and threw me into a trash compactor. I…I accept that Starkiller’s destruction was my doing. I should have died on base.”

“Captain Phasma, you willingly lowered the shields, despite knowing the dangers it posed?”

“I lowered them assuming it would not be long enough for any danger to come to fruition. I cannot say how FN-2187 or his companions came on planet, but if they had been eliminated and the shields put up again, then no Resistance pilot could have ever reached the Oscillator.”

“Is that not treason?” mused Snoke.

Hux himself had said that the options presented to them that disastrous day were not what was wise but what would cause the least amount of damage. He liked Phasma, and right now he’d have to argue for her life. He wasn’t sure he could do it, but he’d try.

“To some extent, this is my doing,” he said. “That day, I told the Captain not long before that the only choices left to us were not what was wise, but what would cause the _least_ amount of damage.”

“But it was still Captain Phasma’s doing that allowed for Starkiller’s destruction,” argued Major Arding.

“General, what would you suggest, then?” asked Snoke, and he almost sounded amused, as though he were merely humoring him.

“The nation has not yet had time to mourn, the public funeral has yet to happen,” he said, almost haltingly. This was the best he could do. “We must mourn before we put anyone to justice. Let Captain Phasma be put to trial later. If we offer blood too soon, no one will attend the pyre.”

The guilty had to be judged, yes, but Hux felt somewhere almost as certain as Kylo’s prophecy that in these uncertain days – were they at war? Had the Resistance been working in the name of the Republic? – that they would need everyone they could get. She had to make it off the planet alive at least, everything else could be handled later.

They were sent back off planet rather quickly after that, and as he watched Phasma settle shakily into a wheelchair bound for a medical detention cell, Hux had the awful thought that she had been brought down for the sole purpose of tearing her apart like some sort of blood sport. But those sorts of thoughts had been about him like a mourning veil since Starkiller took so many lives, and he did not linger long on it. Instead, he gave the order to make way to Morpila, and tried not to think about anything more than what speech he would give before the lighting of the pyre. 

* * *

 

Morpila was three days away, and it took two to come up with anything he could possibly say, to be filed away and merged with whatever the speech writers gave him. The nation needed to be told just _what_ they were mourning before condolences could be given, and there was no easy way to do it. High Command would be convening, his parents had sent a message they would be there, and Hux had the awful thought that this was like some gruesome parody of First Accord, like a children’s spook story; the dead joining together to celebrate those newly among them, a ghost wandering the paths it took in life searching for something it had lost.

The last day, they arrived in early evening for Benau, and within half an hour of their arrival medical was signing transfers for every member of personnel still suffering from radiation poisoning. They must have been in contact with hospitals all around Morpila if the transfers could happen so quickly.

“You are lucky you came out as well as you did,” Dr. Mabuse commented, preparing the syringe for one of his last injections before pills, or so she was guessing until the blood work came through. “If you were any worse, I would recommend you be hospitalized as everyone else.”

“I have to be there for the funeral,” he reminded, watching the needle slide into him.

“Yes you do,” she agreed, her voice quiet. So many dead. There was a low beep, and she turned away to the bloodwork then, but not before putting a bacta patch over the tiny wound. A minute or two of deep consultation later, she nodded to herself and said, “That, General, was your last injection. You’re on pills now, congratulations.”

They were to be taken twice a day, and _always_ with food. Otherwise, she told him, it would probably do nasty things to the balance of stomach acid and stomach lining, and even in the generalizations it sounded horrible enough. He was to take them for five weeks and then they would do another blood test, see how he was doing then. “Presumably by then you will be recovered,” Dr. Mabuse said. “But I do not declare my patients recovered until I have seen the proof of it.”

Still, he was sent away with pills, and told to start taking them the next day. Which was fair enough, as he was taking a shuttle down to the planet to meet with High Command. He wasn’t sure when he’d get to eat dinner, but his stomach had not called out for food in days, just meekly accepted it when he kept to a schedule. Stress always did steal his appetite, that was nothing new.

And he hated to have recently eaten when going through an atmosphere, it always made him feel close to being sick. And he felt sick enough as it was. Once he was landed in Benau there was a transport to take him to the building that had never _officially_ been named the headquarters of High Command but everyone knew what it was. It was, however, situated directly on that massive central plaza which now sent his soul deep into a pit of sick, because it was filled in orderly columns and rows with shroud after shroud, and among them the grieving wandered. He knew the size of each shroud (84 inches long and 28 inches wide, the size of a standard human casket), he knew the number laid out (three thousand six hundred and eighty five), he knew his should be there, a single scarlet shroud for his role as member of High Command.

He didn’t let himself look at it long, though, instead determinedly walking inside where he was surrounded by salutes and told to take the lift to the sixth floor. There, all of High Command was waiting; General Delan sitting and staring into nothing, Generals Xiu and Yhen speaking softly by the window, General Sen cooking a glass of absinthe. When he arrived, they all turned to him, and he saw in them what he felt. Sick, tired, grieving, and determined to continue anyway. But the question was, did _any_ of them know how?

“Have you eaten?” was the first thing General Sen asked, breaking the silence. Glancing at him with brow furrowed, Hux shook his head. “I haven’t either. I haven’t felt hungry since the final death toll.”

“It’s almost unprecedented,” murmured General Yhen. “Not since…” Since the days of the war lords. Since Yhen’s ship was stranded alone and so many on board died. Hux wasn’t sure what would be the worst way for that sentence to end.

“The question is, are we at war?” asked Delan, her hands folded in thought, fingers tapping at each other. “How long can we mourn?”

“The Resistance is a rogue group, not actually under Republican control,” said Hux, moving to stand by the heating duct, letting the warm air wash over him in hopes it could warm him where his heart felt cold. “It’s possible we aren’t at war at all.” The downside of where he stood was that he could see all the shrouds. Three thousand six hundred and eighty five, all laid out. Night was falling and yet as the lights illuminated the square those wandering among them did not disperse.

The others were still talking, but he couldn’t look away. There should be one less silver, one less blue, one less white. There should be a scarlet there. His should be there. Instead, there were two thousand one hundred white shrouds for the lives of the Stormtroopers, eight hundred and fifty two silver for the technicians and engineers, and seven hundred and thirty three blue for the lives of the officers. The numbers were burned onto his mind and he could see the outlines of them in the square.

Where just months ago the people had gathered to sing and dance and celebrate the First Accord, now there was silence, shrouds lain out in perfect lines, filling the square with the dead. Names had been stitched onto every shroud by impersonal droids, but flowers and remembrance tokens were left on the shrouds by grieving family and friends, and priests and priestesses were walking down the snowy columns to leave a prayer tile on every last Stormtrooper shroud, or stood in the middle of them and shook their hands and sang their prayers.

Hux, from where he stood looking down at the square, wondered if those religious leaders even truly believed that the ‘Troopers had souls to pray for, considering how complete the programming was. And yet what breaks there were in it. FN-2187 had broken free, was _human_ , spat in their faces and destroyed them, and Hux was now forced to look at those distributing prayer tiles and wonder.

A hand startled him, and he turned to find General Delan there, the sharp iron about her dulled now. She was not soft, but she was not metal honed to a slicing edge, merely a dulled one. “Hux, come sit down for one moment. The funeral is not for another two weeks, and if the sight of the shrouds keep you from doing your duty…”

“So much death,” he said, giving a last glance at the families who held one another, dressed in mourning clothes and searching for the shroud of the one they lost. Friends doing the same. “And for what? Starkiller never even fired.”

“The motto of High Command is ‘In Your Name,’” said General Xiu. “We act always in the name of our people. We fight for them, and we grieve for them. It’s quite a lot on our shoulders. Sometimes we can only do one.”

He took a long breath and then turned away from the window. “The Supreme Leader found from the mind of Captain Phasma of the _Finalizer_ that she was the one to lower the shields of Starkiller, allowing the Resistance onto the base,” he said. “She is now in a medical detention cell, receiving treatment for severe radiation poisoning and awaiting trial.”

“Did Leader Snoke not deliver justice?” asked Sen, blinking.

“He asked my opinion, I said it was dangerous to offer blood before mourning. Her trial is to take place after the funeral.”

“And what ancient text did you glean _that_ from?” asked Yhen.

“It _is_ sound advice,” said Sen, glancing sparingly out the window over the public square. “If you forgive the sentiment, I was told a story as a child, of a ghost that sought out revenge and drove her husband mad when he remarried before the mourning period was done. A children’s story, yes, but it holds true. Grievance must be given time, or else the public view will be that we rushed through what should not be rushed. And we would be plagued as the husband in the story.”

They would meet again to hold a council of whether or not they felt they should go to war and present their case to the Supreme Leader. As it was, it was now full night and all of them were sick at heart. There was no point to meet in the dead of night, they would see each other often enough.

An aide informed Hux that there was a room for him at the Hotel Condott, where High Command usually stayed. It was known for having high class clients, and over the years knew how to keep High Command safe. The fact that it was not situated on this public square but instead a few blocks back to account for its courtyard and gardens made it sound all the more appealing. He would never sleep if outside his window the shrouds glared back at him. His parents were staying at the Hotel Condott, and he would have to see them eventually, but not tonight.

His clothing had been brought by a series of low ranking officers and government aides to the hotel, and he was glad he didn’t have to worry about it. Instead, all he had to do was take the key he had been given and get to his room.

The Hotel Condott was set up in the way the homes of the rich had been built in Benau for ages, supposedly to be both upper class and welcoming. It had to be reached through the gardens, and once inside it was built around a single double helix staircase. This style of home was desperately confusing, it was easy to get turned around and be lost for ages, and for that reason the hallways were covered in cameras for staff to find and help those lost as quickly as possible.

His room was on the seventh floor, and while there was a lift installed in the center of the double helix staircase, he simply climbed. Anyone who held any significant amount of command on a starship became rather physically fit, from trying to make good time across simply _massive_ distances, and on a night like this, when he wasn’t entirely certain if he should actually be alive, it felt good to strain his muscles a bit.

The room was well appointed, it looked out over the gardens, and Hux just went to sleep, not wanting to think anymore. The next day he would start his regimen of pills, and in doing so it would make him eat once more. 

* * *

 

He dreamed that night, one of the first dreams he had had since Starkiller. He was standing trial on the planet as it rumbled and roared and tore itself apart. He could feel himself being poisoned by the radiation, but still he tried to argue his case. What was he even on trial for? He couldn’t hear the judge or the attorneys talking, Starkiller falling apart was too loud. He couldn’t talk, he couldn’t stand, he just shook and shook either from cold or from the radiation, and even as he knelt there in the snow, unable to move and unable to even raise his head from where it had dropped heavily against his chest.

The ground below him started to shake, and a fissure opened up between his knees. Already he could feel the heat of the star pushing up. The snow was melting around him, and he could see the black soil underneath, and that just made the light of the star pushing the ground apart all the clearer. Around him, the court case went on.

He jolted awake just before the crack opened any further, and lay there in bed, breathing harshly. At least it was morning. A note had been slipped under his door, a message that Commandant Hux wished to meet him over breakfast. There would be exactly one thing he would be wanting to talk about, and there was no part of Hux that felt ready to tell him about the apparent failure of the Stormtrooper program he developed, nor to become Brendol Jr. again. Despite that his father stood strong and forever by rank, he did always make it seem to his son as though he wasn’t General.

Dressing and making the bed out of habit, he took the pills Dr. Mabuse had given him and the key and turned to breakfast. It would be served in the courtyard, he remembered, on tables set up around a fountain. The tricky part would be finding his way back to the central staircase.

He didn’t end up needing a politely discreet hotel staff member to direct him, which was always a relief, and he took the lift, as walking down spiral stairs always ended up making him dizzy. Waiting for the lift, he found himself fiddling with the pill bottle just to hear them shift against each other. The hotel, much as the meeting house of High Command, was silent in national mourning. They felt like tombs.

The fountain was running, at least, though usually there would be some sort of music piped in to help fill silences and keep conversations private. But they were in a state of national mourning for the greatest loss of life in recent years; music was banned until the funeral. All conversation was hushed, and he _hoped_ that this didn’t turn into a confrontation.

He recognized a few government aides at some of the tables, talking to each other or focused intently on datapads. They had just as much work as he, it seemed, and he itched to be _doing something_ even though in these uncertain days, there was nothing to do. No base to oversee, no weapon to prepare, no war to organize, just a speech for a funeral to write.

His mother was sitting in the early morning light, a black lace shawl draped over her dress, the hood lowered for now. Going to join her, she looked up and he had never seen a look like that on her face. He had spent so long unsure if he should be alive, disturbed that there was no scarlet shroud laid out for him, he didn’t realize that his mother must have heard and been relieved that he lived.

“Brendol, darling,” she sighed, holding out a hand like a blessing, bidding him to join her at her side. Tears were filling her eyes even as he sat beside her, and she did not let his hand go. “I wept to know you lived. To know you lived, it was such a relief…” She trailed off, just squeezing his hand a long moment before wiping at her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’ve ordered a pot of tea for the three of us, your father should be here soon. He won’t show it, but he is just as glad as I you survived.”

“Mother, I caused the greatest loss of life since the old wars,” he said softly.

“Did you personally destroy the base? Did you order anyone to stay behind while you took their place? Brendol, darling, I know what survivor’s guilt is, but you needn’t feel it, not for this.”

He opened his mouth and made to refute it, but then he remembered where he was, remembered that the only noise to mask any conversation was the fountain, and he closed his mouth once more. His mother had been one of the main driving forces in allowing nonmilitary families to settle. Nonmilitary families that had been stuck on warring ships in the old wars. Nonmilitary families that made up most of the loss of life in the old wars. She knew what it was to watch people die who you should not have let die. The large glass carafe of tea wrapped in cloth arrived soon after, the small ceramic cups with it. His father still wasn’t here.

“Mother,” he finally ventured when she poured out three cups. “Where is Father?”

“He had a meeting early this morning. General Delan wanted to talk to him about the Stormtrooper program. He can join us for breakfast, but no more than that.”

Why wasn’t he part of these meetings, he wondered, watching steam curl up out of his cup. He hadn’t received any notice of this, therefore he probably was not needed. He knew the decision had been made that he not make the call to join the Academy and its daughter schools for fear of a dynasty, perhaps it had been the same here?

“Brendol, darling,” said Mathilde, her hand touching his wrist, drawing his attention. “Don’t think I don’t see those pills. You’re unwell, and severely so, it seems. Let yourself heal before you try and fix everything. That is why High Command has four other Generals, so that you do not have to do anything but write a speech for the funeral. Your father has been muttering about war. If we are to war, darling, there’s not a citizen who’d ask you to have worked yourself to death before the first shot is fired.”

Sometimes he forgot how brilliant his mother was. Every time he was reminded he berated himself for having forgotten.

His father arrived then, tight around the eyes in the way that made Mathilde’s go sad, and already he felt like just Brendol Jr. again. Hux arrived at the table and gave a sharp salute to his son, who gave one in return, and only then did he sit. “Stormtroopers breaking programming,” he muttered, taking his cup of tea.

“Only one, actually,” said Brendol.

“If there is an exception to the rule, it proves it isn’t a rule.” Mathematically sound, but Kylo said they had misshapen minds, there were religious leaders praying for them, and no animal in the universe acted in spite. FN-2187 had killed so many, out of spite. That could only happen in a sentient being. Not in a mathematical constant.

Food was soon brought, and the three had been largely silent, which was a blessing, really. When it came (sweet juice, pastries filled with fibrous shavings of a sweet plant baked into them, slices of vegetables, a savory paste to spread over those same vegetables or onto unleavened bread, and apparently Mathilde had made a request because there were also poached eggs, her favorite) only then did Brendol actually take two of his pills out from the bottle to take, taking a glass of juice to take them with. Mathilde looked heartbroken as he did, and he tried not to look at her, and found his father making a strange face at him.

“What are those?” he asked, voice gruff.

“My medication,” answered Brendol. “Nearly every survivor from Starkiller Base was diagnosed with radiation poisoning. I was lucky enough to get a mild case, that is why I’m only taking pills, not hospitalized.”

His mother took a deliberate breath to hear it, and drank deeply of her tea, his father blinked at him a moment before turning back to his meal, not commenting. It was deathly silent, and Brendol took his pills and began to eat and wondered why his father had wanted to meet with him if he wasn’t talking.

“Tarkin didn’t abandon his post,” said Hux after long minutes had passed, and Brendol didn’t quite notice the sad surprise on his mother’s face to hear it. A response was at the tip of his tongue; that he had been _prepared_ to die there, he was _willing_ to die there, to give his last seat on a shuttle to anyone, to one of the engineers, to an officer, to a _Stormtrooper_ if he had the chance. But he had been _ordered_ , told by Snoke himself to fetch Kylo, his own heart had begged him to go much as he had hated the idea that his heart could tell him to do anything. He would have gone for Kylo anyway, ran through those frozen woods now eternally gone in search of him, but would have gone on foot were it not for Snoke who told him to bring Kylo to him.

Half of that he could not say. His own heart had been forbidden from existence by the man before him. It hadn’t been explicit, no, but it had been clear. Saying he had to save his lover wouldn’t convince his father of anything, nor did he really want to tell his parents.

“I had orders from the Supreme Leader to bring Lord Kylo Ren to him. I couldn’t disobey,” he said instead.

“I’m certain you did,” said Hux, before turning back to his meal. Again, silence. Brendol wanted to shout, to just slam his hand against the table and ask _why_ his father had wanted to meet with him at all, but he was the youngest General of High Command, everyone in the Order knew his face. The only time someone wouldn’t was when Kylo had thrown a handful of chalk into his face at First Accord, and there would be no celebrations for a long time yet. If he drew attention to himself, everyone in the nation would know soon enough.

Escape came when a woman entered the courtyard, and directed by a server to their table. She approached quickly but without urgency and said, “General Hux, General Yhen has asked you to meet with him.”

“I’ll come now,” he said immediately, standing. “Mother, Father.” Nodding his goodbye and not allowing his father time to give him the salute of rank, he immediately followed the aide.

“General Yhen is waiting for you at the public square, General.”

“At the offices?”

“No sir, in the square proper.”

Among the shrouds (three thousand six hundred and eighty five of them). Taking a breath, he nodded, and willingly climbed into the transport waiting in front of the hotel. It wasn’t actually far to the square, but it was generally unadvisable for the leaders of the nation to wander around in plain sight. During First Accord at least there were so many people and so many colors it was impossible to tell anyone apart. In these days of mourning, it seemed as though no one was in the streets at all.

Yhen was waiting on the steps of the building High Command met in, and when Hux emerged, he gestured with his head to walk out into the square. A few paces behind, two bodyguards followed, just in case. “It’s good for the people to see its leaders grieving with them,” said Yhen as they walked. “Hux, very little has been made public. All that’s been said is that a base under your command was attacked and destroyed. We haven’t said by whom or where or what the base is.”

“Is this something to discuss in public?” asked Hux shortly, eye catching on an engineer’s name (Ohru Feni) stitched into her silver shroud.

“Anyone in the nation could tell you what I did. Technically, I am the one in charge of such things. Homefront and all. But I thought it best to consult with you. Would you like to make public what happened?”

He should. It was under his command, he was responsible for this death, even if Phasma had lowered the shields. It should be he who tells the nation (Gani Fenn, Durward Fetya, Wan Fi). He didn’t say anything, but nodded shortly to Yhen even as his eyes were elsewhere (Zoltán Gabor, Eugenie Gaçon). Yhen stared at him a long moment, and said nothing as they walked past a young person weeping desperately at the shroud of a technician (Reynard Gamba). Only when they were past did he say,

“When my ship was stranded, over half those on board died. They were each laid to rest as they wished; cremated, buried, sky burials, on and on. There was a ceremony and a public memorial, yes, but there was no need for shrouds. My failure to keep those around me alive was not made physical as it is for you. What you are feeling is survivor’s guilt, and there will be many who tell you not to feel it. Hux, this feeling will never go away. To this day I feel it, I dream of that ship, half a graveyard as it was. But you cannot lay down among the dead. They count on you to honor them, and to grieve and live on all the same.” Hux couldn’t help but stare at him. Why was he telling him this? The confusion must have been apparent, for Yhen said, “To continue leading after a loss like this…it’s something that only the two of us know now. And I’m sorry you have to know it at all.”

Yhen returned to work after a few minutes, returning inside. Hux was still suffering radiation poisoning, and it was clear that sobering diagnosis was why he had nothing to do today. So, he turned his feet to the blue of the officers, letting his bodyguard follow behind.

There was something between crushing and calming, walking through the dead, eyes catching on names he knew and those he didn’t in equal amount (First Lieutenant Quinn Fay, Sergeant Rolund Fay). For all that the Order’s military had been agreed upon years ago to be only human, there were dozens of species from all across Order space come to grieve their friends (Petty Officer Mickey Fenquin, Major Raala Fennel). He carried guilt and grief in equal part, and those wandering through the shrouds like lost souls trying to find their loved ones had no ember of prophecy in their spine that they’d ever see their loved ones as Hux had, and was that _fair?_

There was an aura in this place that drew his consciousness into something else, something closer to the meditation Kylo had once led him through, and he blinked in surprise to see someone he knew standing there. “Shara,” he murmured, surprised to meet her there.

“Brendol,” she returned. She still wore clothes native to Benau, but black lace of Imperial mourning settled over her head and shoulders, the hood just cresting onto her forehead while dripping down her back. “I mean, General,” she added, glancing to the bodyguard behind him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Your brother never got that posting, did he?” there was something desperate in his voice that he hated to hear. But he just needed to know that _something_ had gone right. “Vasco Kypling, I looked for his name.”

“No, he was posted to the _Eclipse_ under General Sen,” she assured, before her voice grew distant and sad. “And looking at it now, I think he’s grateful.”

“Good. Shara, if your brother isn’t here, why are you?”

“My brother _is_ here, Brendol. He’s got school mates who have a shroud here. But truly I’m here because one of the children from my school, his father is here.” And she nodded towards where a young Kinnara boy was weeping at one of the shrouds, held by a woman who must be his mother, her unadorned mourning clothes a shock against the gold of her feathers. “His parents were an unconsummate couple, but he was still only a baby when they were married.”

Unconsmmate couples weren’t officially frowned upon, but every officer had gone through the Academy and its daughter schools and Imperial values were still pressed upon them. To the Empire, which needed children, companionate marriage between species was the worst of all evils, and named them unconsummate for that they couldn’t ever reproduce. It was perhaps an unkind name, now that he paused to think of it.

Setting his shoulders, Hux went to them, Shara trailing behind him and bodyguard behind her. Glancing down at the neatly stitched name (Sergeant Brandt Furcht), Hux said as he approached, “Mrs. Furcht?” The woman turned to him, and upon seeing who it was, began to sink to touch his feet. Catching her wrist, Hux knelt to touch hers saying, “I was the one who got your husband killed, my obeisance is to you this day.”

“It is not you I blame,” said Mrs. Furcht, her voice shaking from sadness and confusion that a General of High Command should touch her feet. “Miss Kypling,” she said upon seeing the teacher, sounding relieved to see her.

“Mrs. Furcht, I’m sure you know of him, but this is General Brendol Hux Jr. We were friends when we were children, when we lived on the _Aggressor_ in exile,” said Shara before turning to the weeping little boy and saying, “Dev, don’t you want to meet him? Ever since we talked about High Command in school you’ve looked up to him.”

The little boy, Dev, just kept crying, and Hux found himself kneeling to be at the boy’s level. In his hand, Hux saw Dev was clutching a keepsake charm, the symbol of the Order that doubtless had his father’s name written on the back. “Is that for your father’s shroud?” asked Hux, pitching his voice low and quiet. It only made Dev cry harder. “It’s a keepsake charm, you don’t have to leave it there if you don’t want.”

“He said he wanted to,” said Mrs. Furcht, her voice hoarse from grief and hands gentle as they stroked her son’s shoulders. “But then he found out about the pyre.”

That would probably do it. It was one thing to leave a keepsake charm on a grave, it was another to know it would be burned in a pyre. “Dev,” said Hux, uncertainly, “why did your father give you a keepsake charm?”

“To-to remember him when he was gone,” gasped out the boy.

“Then why are you leaving it on his shroud? Keep it so you can remember him.” Dev turned to his mother then, burrowing into her embrace.

There was no consoling him, not just yet, but Mrs. Furcht looked grateful, so apparently he had managed to do something right. Hux was not destined to do anything with children, that much was certain. Finally, Mrs. Furcht picked up her son and spoke to him in low, rolling Bhāșe. The boy curled against her, and just kept crying into her neck. “I’m going to take him home,” she told Shara. “I don’t think he’ll be in school next week, Miss Kypling.”

“Of course,” assured Shara. “I expect there will be a few students out. We’ll have a talk in class about it. Take care of him but don’t forget to take care of yourself, Mridula.” With a deep nod of respect to Hux, Mrs. Furcht took her son still sobbing away, looking as if she wanted to weep as well. “It’s the hardest thing, being a parent in times like these,” Shara murmured. “You want to weep because your spouse has just died, but your child just lost their daddy, and you have to be strong for them.”

“Do you have many students who have lost someone?” asked Hux.

“I already knew Mridula, Dev faced a lot of prejudice at his last school for being the child of an unconsummate couple and she and Brandt insisted on meeting me before I started teaching him. When Mridula found out, she called me in tears, she didn’t know how to tell her son. I expect I’ll find out who else lost someone when I go in to work.”

He nodded, staring down at the shroud for Sergeant Furcht. There were flowers, prayer tiles, and dumplings with perfectly crimped edges. This man had been loved by those around him, each tile, each bunch of flowers, even the dumplings were some deeply known truth about him. Next to his shroud was one for Second Lieutenant Iksender Fuss, and for Iksender there was a verse of poetry written out, a single prayer tile, a circle of lace, and one flower with dozens of petals. Brandt and Iksender both had objects from which he could divine nothing and yet probably meant so much to those who left them and spoke deeply to their relationships to those who left them.

Three thousand six hundred and eighty five shrouds. But how many more had lost someone forever?

“Have _you_ lost anyone?” he finally asked, turning to Shara.

“No, I was lucky. I didn’t know any of Vasco’s school mates, we’re too far apart in age for that, really, and my social circle is almost entirely civilian. I can only imagine what Vasco’s feeling. Or you. Brendol, I’m so sorry.”

He folded his lips, not really wanting to tell her that due to chain of command he barely knew any of these people. He was their commanding officer, that was all. But at that moment, Shara was distracted by a young man walking up towards them, slowing when he saw Hux before returning to normal pace, stopping and saluting when he grew close.

“Sir,” he greeted. The young man had dark hair, and deep green eyes. He was pale, but not quite as pallid as most officers were, fresh out of the Academy and new in space. He was short, but solidly built, and Hux believed he knew who this was, saluting in return.

True to his suspicion, as soon as they dropped the salutes, Shara stepped forward to take his hands, saying, “Oh Vasco…”

“What is your rank, Kypling?” asked Hux.

The young man blinked before saying, “I’m only a corporal, sir, only just got commissioned.”

“I expect the ones you lost were only corporals as well, then.” Vasco turned to his sister then who shook her head and said,

“You know we were friends, Vasco, why wouldn’t I tell him my brother is hurting?”

“I lost two,” he said quietly, staring at his joined hands with his sister. “Corporal Catarina Potenculon, and Corporal Rudyard Bent. We were best friends, the three of us. We joked when we were commissioned that it was my bad luck that I couldn’t go with them and be posted under you, sir. Now…” Hux had to give him credit, Vasco’s voice was incredibly steady for the tears gathering in his eyes. “I’m sorry sir,” he said, taking a breath and reaching for the kerchief all officers kept, holding it to his eyes. “This is very unprofessional of me.”

“I am on something of medical leave at the moment, and I assume General Sen gave you all shore leave to come grieve,” said Hux. “Neither of us are on duty and if this is how you grieve, then so be it.”

“Permission to speak frankly?”

“I remind you neither of us are on duty, but granted.”

“I don’t _fucking_ know _how_ I grieve. I’ve never lost anyone before. I was born on the _Aggressor,_ I haven’t lost my planet, I haven’t lost a family member, I haven’t lost a friend…I’m just so…helpless. Catarina and Rudyard are _dead_ and they’re _gone_ and they’ll never come back. I can’t…they weren’t even murdered face to face, the base they were on was destroyed, I can’t even avenge them.”

“Vengeance has never brought anyone back to life,” said Shara. “We must only grieve.”

“I just wish I could _do_ something, Shara.”

“I’ve dealt with children realizing their mortality and the transience of the universe and they have no frame to deal with the dread and terror those realizations give them. And I have to tell them that there’s nothing they can _do_ about it. All we can do is look at our own lives and enjoy them as we do. Usually they need a good cry about it, and quiet time while the others are playing outside and a treat.”

“Shara, I’m not one of your kids.”

“No, but I think the process is just as necessary. Brendol, I’m sorry _General,_ I think the same for you. Find something that makes you happy, and let yourself be quiet and still and enjoy it.” Hux gave her what might have been called a smile if one was being particularly generous, not really planning on following her advice. She was giving the advice she gave to young children who only just found out that stars burn out eventually, and he knew that better than most.

They parted not minutes later, Shara’s arm holding her little brother to her. Turning, Hux walked purposefully ( _he was not fleeing_ ) from the field of death to the one building that bustled as normal, the one that wasn’t still and silent as a tomb and still managed to feel like one all the same. When he entered, the aides all stopped to let him pass, the officers saluted, and he went immediately to the fifth floor, to the office that he rarely ever used, to the aides he never saw. He knew their identification numbers when they sent him memos and edicts and problems in the nation, but he didn’t know their names or their faces.

“What’s your name?” he asked the first one he saw, a sallow faced young man with slicked back blonde hair.

“Helpantojn Malgojon, sir,” answered the man, his voice colored with some accent he distant recognized as being from the Pentoo system.

“Malgojon, I want you to find me something to do. Officially I’m on medical leave enforced by my physician, but I cannot sit here and do nothing.”

“I can find you something,” he promised.

“Then do it. You, what’s your name?” A woman with grey hair and a pair of eyes behind thick glasses that betrayed nothing looked at him and said,

“Cloche Gringoire, sir. What do you need from me?”

“I want you to find General Yhen or any of his senior aides and bring them here.”

“Yes, sir.” She walked crisply out of the office, grabbing the elbow of a woman who looked desperately uncertain. New to the office, still shadowing.

“Do you need anything else?” asked a woman with short cropped hair and a white knuckled grip on her datapad.

“I need you to find a secretary and contact the Stormtrooper program, ask them about the review and have a report brought. And find someone to speak to General Delan and have a report of her meeting with Commandant Hux brought to me. What’s your name?”

“Heloise Cynyr.”

“Dismissed, Cynyr.”

He had dropped all correspondence since the security breach, and when he brought it up, he saw the horrendous backlog. There were old messages from Dr. Riil and Professor Mabun and Shara Kypling from before anyone heard anything, followed by messages each expressing sorrow and understanding that he couldn’t keep speaking to them just now but hoping he wouldn’t forget. There were messages of some hacker managing to weasel into some major bank and steal half the money they had (all handled but he should be aware that his account had been next on the hacker’s list), transcriptions from High Command delivered by a secretarial officer, on and on.

Malgojon returned with a datapad which had on it plans for the public funeral. “There have been four different speeches proposed for the funeral for you depending on how direct a role you wish to take,” the man said. “They’re each pending your approval and will be sent back to the speech writers if you dislike them. Beyond that, there’s the question of if the mourning song will be sung to allow music again or if three weeks is not long enough in the face of the numbers lost.”

“Who would be singing it?”

“I don’t know, I can find out who has been proposed.”

“Do so. And Malgojon, bring me some caf.”

“Yes, sir.”

 _This loss is a devastating blow, and together we will mourn and rise from it together to take the lives lost and bring them to peace._ Too sentimental. _For each life lost we will mourn and for each life lost we will gain justice from the strike that killed them._ Dangerously close to a declaration of war.

“Hux, Doctor Thea Mabuse informed all of us that you were to be on medical leave the first few days of your regimen of pills to allow you to become used to them,” said General Delan, walking into his office.

“Odd then, that she did not tell me this when she prescribed them,” said Hux only, still flicking through the speeches offered. “Delan, I’m not going to sit here and do nothing.”

“You and Yhen went among the shrouds, and then you stayed and _talked to people._ You spoke to one of the _children_. That’s not nothing, people will see that and remember.”

“I cannot spend all my time walking about in the shrouds. I wouldn’t have gone at all had Yhen not insisted on meeting there.”

Delan stared down at him a long moment, before Malgojon returned carrying a large mug of caf. She waved him forward dismissively and said, “How much have you already taken on? You’re on medical leave, I can’t give you the record of my meeting with your father.”

“I’ve sent an aide and a secretary to get a report from the program itself, asking for your meeting with the Commandant isn’t necessary but useful.”

“Do you even understand the concept of medical leave?” she asked, glaring at Malgojon until he left them alone again.

“I’m hardly commanding a starship at the moment. As for your question, I’m reviewing these funeral speeches, I was going to review the progress with the Stormtroopers, and I’m hoping either Yhen or an aide will be here soon so I can discuss making a statement to tell people exactly what happened.”

“Hux,” said Delan firmly, knuckles leaning on the desk and staring him down until he looked at her. She was impressive and though High Command had no official leader, she would be the one who was if anyone ever asked. “Let Yhen prepare the statement, he knows how to run the Homefront. Let me handle the Stormtroopers, you know you need someone impartial and both you _and_ your father are both too involved in it. Just prepare your speech, talk to Xiu about it if you have to, but there are five of us for a reason. Sen is working on rebuilding the communications systems, I’m working on the Stormtroopers, Xiu is working on the funeral, and Yhen is working on how much can be declassified and how to make it public. All you have to do is write your speech and follow your doctor’s damn advice.”

“Who’s coordinating the military?”

“ _Hux._ Work on your speech, and then go back to the Condott and take a day off. Talk to your academic friends, read an article, drink yourself unconscious, I don’t care. You bristle like a damn Erethizon the second anyone tries to do your job for you, if you keep trying to do mine we’re going to have _words_.”

Gringoire came back then, the junior aide still at her side and one of Yhen’s senior aides next to her, and Delan narrowed her eyes and said, “You’re Yhen’s, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” answered the man.

“Go back to your office.”

“Delan,” protested Hux.

“ _Go._ You two as well, this is a private conversation.” The three quickly left, and Delan’s steel sharp eyes swung back to him. “I _mean_ it. There are five people in High Command so that it’s not up to one person to handle everything. Even the Supreme Leader lets us hang around and do our jobs instead of doing it all himself. Before we promoted you, there were four of us, and that was enough. I know you probably feel like you have to do something, but there’s nothing you _can_ do right now. Take the afternoon off and all of tomorrow, and then come back.”

“I’m not a child to be sent away.”

“No but you are still irradiated and if your doctor insisted you take a few days to get used to your new treatment then you take her advice unless you’d like to cause yourself serious ill. Hux, I respect you, you’re a great leader, the Finalizer is the most efficient ship in our fleet and that’s due to your command and I know it. But just let us do our jobs without butting in, alright? I can’t keep you from your office, but I’ll tell my staff not to speak to yours if I have to.”

He stared at her, wanting to disagree, to do the work he knew he had to do, but she was right. The four of them had done perfectly well without him and would again for a few days.

“If when I come back you’re only telling me to go wander around those shrouds…” he said.

“I’ll take that for the acquiescence it is and pretend I wasn’t just vaguely threatened.” Her sharp edges became dull silently as she said, “Yhen got like this too, I remember. If you work yourself to death, you aren’t doing the dead any favors, remember that.”

Soon after she was gone, and when Cynyr returned with the report, he thanked her and set it aside for later, focused on the speech, sending drafts back to the speech writers and composing his own from the pieces he liked. 

* * *

 

When he returned to the Condott, a staff member approached him and told him that his mother wished to meet with him, in the suite she and her father were staying in, and would he like a guide there? Instead he got their room number and went searching for her. They were on the third floor, overlooking the gardens, and he only got slightly turned around but still didn’t need help. Knocking on the door, he wondered if he was going to get an answer for his father’s odd behavior at a meeting _he_ had asked for.

His mother opened the door, the hood of her black lace up now, but a smile spreading across her face to see him. “Brendol, darling, come in. I’ll call for tea.”

“You don’t have to,” he tried.

“You might enjoy ice wine and cooked absinthe, darling, but there’s nothing that soothes the soul like tea and in days like these we need that.” The order was placed, and she took his hand, drawing him to sit with her on the low sofa. “Your father is off in meetings, I believe about the Stormtroopers still. He mentioned it to me, Brendol, darling, you needn’t fear the public knowing any of this.”

“Why aren’t they asking me about any of this?” he murmured. It was safe to wonder that aloud sitting beside his mother.

“Because the bones of the system are the same since your father ran it, and the one who broke programming would have received most if not all of it under your father’s control of the program. The question lies with the one who ran the program when this…runaway was in the midst of it, not with the one who runs it now.”

“He was acting so strange this morning. He was the one who asked to meet with me and he didn’t say nearly anything, just talked about how Tarkin died on the Death Star.”

Mathilde let out a low sad noise and placed her hand gently on his cheek. “Brendol, darling, he was saying he was _glad_ you didn’t stay. You could have died, been one of the shrouds, but you didn’t stay at your post. You lived, and we’re grateful.” Her hand fell to pick at and twist her wedding ring as she said, “Your father…he changed, during the Exile. You wouldn’t remember, you were too young to know the difference, but on Arkanis he…he was different. Things were…in any case, the Exile changed him. It changed everyone, but your father was changed most of all, or perhaps I could just see it better.”

“Mother–”

“He loves, he _is_ capable of it. The Exile just made it difficult to show. I remember well what he was like, I can read the difference, but I can only imagine what it must have been like for you. You used to bring him your schoolwork to show how well you did, or tried to get him to play your atlas games with you.” He colored to hear it, embarrassed to hear it, but she continued. “He used to indulge you, in the early days. And then…I think it was the fact that he was one of the ones in charge. He ran the Academy so they put him charge of developing a schooling system for all the children brought along, and he didn’t exactly know how to put together an Ecole. That’s why it was all so military.”

“Mother, what does this have to do with this morning?”

“Brendol, darling, he asked you to meet him so he could finally unstick his tongue and tell you what he ought to have. We nearly lost our only son, the thing we love most in this universe. I think that was enough of a shock. But you know how he stands on rank, a Commandant can hardly embrace a General and tell him how relieved he is that the General lives, how terrified he was when he heard the base was destroyed before he heard the General lived. Tarkin stayed and died, he was terrified that in all his talk of the Empire to you when you were young you might have picked up that staying and dying when you could live was the noble thing to do.

“When the news came to us, it was the middle of the night. He woke me up and told me ‘our son is alive, but his base has been destroyed. Thousands are dead, but he’s alive.’ He was crying when he told me. Darling, he told me you lived before he told me the base was destroyed. He doesn’t hardly show it, but he cares for you above the Order.”

“If he can tell you all this, why not me? Why sit silently and mutter and just hope somehow I’ll understand all that?” he demanded, angry all at once. Years he had come to loud confrontation with his father, years his father had put him down and praised him in the same breath, and somehow he was to glean some great depth of character from it?

His mother made to respond but for the knock at the door. The tea was brought in and set up, a silent timer for steeping counting down the time before it was considered perfect to drink, and in the time it took the thread of conversation was dropped. Their family was prominent enough it would not do to air any dirty laundry where just anyone could hear it.

“My darling son,” said Mathilde, her voice soft and sad. “Our family cracked something awful in Exile. It may only be optimism that keeps me from saying that it is broken entirely. But I have never and will never lie to you. Your father wept to hear that you lived, even for that moment he thought you dead it destroyed him. He wished to meet with you because he wanted to see you were alive, and tell you how glad he was you lived. But even in the seconds he thought you dead, it could not change him as years in Exile and in war. He’s not a different person, he’s still your father, and all I can tell you is what I see in him. I wish I could change his hesitancies towards intimacy for you, but I can’t.”

Hux said nothing, but took the teapot and poured for them both delicate blue tea, scented like the flowers of early spring. Was that what time of year it was now? To him it should still be the midst of winter, cold and icy. He couldn’t tell his mother that sometimes he thought he wasn’t fully on Morpila. He was still on Starkiller, he was in Snoke’s fortress, he wasn’t in the Hotel Condott drinking tea while Dev Furcht sobbed for his father and Mridula Furcht tried to keep it together for her son.

“I ran into Shara Kypling today,” he said instead.

“Oh? You were so close as children.”

“Hmm. She has a little brother, just freshly commissioned, without honors. Corporal Vasco Kypling.”

“Oh no. Did he…?”

“No, he ended up on the _Eclipse_.”

“Thank the Maker,” sighed Mathilde.

“He did lose two friends, though, he came to mourn them.”

“And Shara came with him?”

“I ran into her at a different shroud, a Sergeant Furcht’s. He had a son in her class, she’s a teacher an Ecole outside Benau, have I mentioned that?”

“No, I don’t think so. That poor boy, to lose a father.”

“He couldn’t bear to leave a remembrance charm on the shroud, his mother had to take him away. But Shara’s brother came and met us there. He was…he was crying and angry all in the same breath, he didn’t know how to grieve, he never lost anyone before, not a friend, not a family member…he was born on the _Aggressor,_ he hadn’t even lost a planet, this was the first time he had to grieve.”

“That’s true of most generations after yours,” agreed Mathilde. “They were too young in the wars, they don’t remember them for the most part, or were born after settling rights were given. The cadets at your father’s Academy don’t understand half of what he tries to tell them about the Empire and the Exile. To them, the Order is all they know.”

“Mother…to them…”

“Yes?” she prompted.

“What is the Republic to them? The younger generations. To us, it’s what destroyed our old lives, drove us from our homes, sent us into Exile and sent us into war. To them…what is it?”

Mathilde blinked, surprised and took a deep drink before saying, “I think you must ask Shara’s brother about such things. Even you and I see it differently. Brendol, darling, what’s brought this on?”

“Some of the proposed funeral speeches skirted the line of declaration of war, and Corporal Kypling mentioned he felt he couldn’t even avenge his friends. Officers my age and older, they’d look at it and say vengeance could come from striking back at the Republic.”

“It’s possible the Corporal is of a specific disposition.”

“Perhaps.”

“Brendol, darling, I think seeing the shrouds does you more harm than good.”

“They’re my own fault, I must see them. And what does this have to do with–”

“People visit graves to receive closure. You look at the shrouds and torture yourself. You wonder if any of those younger than you truly believed in what the base they died on stood for.”

“It’s nationalism, mother. Was that not what started the Separatists?”

“It’s _patriotism._ We built this nation, you remember the chaos of the era of the war lords and you can look around now and see the difference. The Separatists grew prideful of their own superiority and split off, but we are a gardener who looks at the flowers and fruits and is proud of what they’ve built. Hardly the same thing.”

“But there are generations now who don’t remember.”

“Then we remember for them.” He looked away and drank deeply of his tea. Mathilde sighed and set down her cup. “I admit, there are times I look around and wonder. Your father tells me things over dinner and I start to think. But then I remember the Exile. I remember children dressed in cast off clothes so used that by the time it gets to them the cuffs are so worn they’re hardly there anymore. I remember listening to you playing your atlas games while I calculated how long our water and rations could last us. I remember having to turn on that nanny droid and let it take care of you while I did the math of how long our fuel would last. When the First Accord happened, I remember you telling me that there were younger children asking what fruit was we’d gone so long without it. No matter if sometimes I wonder, it’s better now than it was. And besides, now Manon and his ilk are dead, and I think there are plenty who are glad for that alone, let alone that they’re becoming known on the galactic stage.”

“You doubt?” He had spent so long trying not to doubt, trying to fully believe in the Supreme Leader and not question, to stop his traitorous thoughts, and his mother was telling him calmly over tea that she did the same as him. And she didn’t seem half as invested as he.

“Hmm. Yes I do. There is a religion on Al Ŝimo I’ve come across. I can’t explain it to you, but there is a verse of their scripture I do understand. ‘Though I doubt I think and I believe, I ask what why and I answer in faith.’ Sometimes everyone doubts, but if we come through believing all the same, it’s stronger belief. Be it in a religion or a government, it holds true. Things aren’t _perfect,_ but at least children know what fruit is.”

Hux furrowed his brow and merely drank his tea. He wasn’t so certain “better than when children hadn’t seen fruit themselves” was the best place to assuage doubt. It seemed like a rather low bar. 

* * *

 

When he returned to his office, Xiu had sent him information about the funeral (apparently there was some singer called Rudolf Bauer who’d be singing the mourning song), Sen had updated that the rebuilding of the communications system was about half done, Delan had confiscated his report on the Stormtroopers with a flat notice to leave off because he wasn’t impartial, and Yhen came into his office in a flurry.

Malgojon had jumped at the slamming of the door and spilled caf all down his front, Cynyr looked mildly terrified at the General bursting in like that, and Gringoire just blinked a few times. Hux looked up at him evenly from his seat, and wondered why he was running.

“Have you seen the Benau Times today?” he demanded.

“No, I don’t tend to read civilian news sources,” answered Hux, but took it from Yhen all the same. Right at the top on the front page was a picture of him, kneeling to speak to Dev Furcht, Mrs. Furcht and Shara standing above them. It was captioned “General Hux of High Command comforts a victim’s child.”

“I hope the press isn’t beating down that family’s door,” said Hux only. “Why are you showing me this?”

“Because it’s already spreading through the Order and it’s doing a world of good. We can’t declassify anything about the destruction just yet, and there’s still two weeks until the funeral and there are plenty people who want to know how it came to pass. So far no one is _directly_ blaming you, but it’s been insinuated.”

“And this has magically fixed it?”

“No, but this picture is you with the child of an _unconsummate couple._ It’s doing wonders, you’ve been pictured genuinely reaching out to the affected, and the first one was a Kinnara boy.”

“I’m not going to spend the next two weeks wandering around the shrouds, you know that’s a horrible idea security wise.”

“No, but I do know what you can do that’s secure and will do just as much as this.”

“If you want me flying around the Order knocking on the doors of everyone who lost someone–”

“Go to the hospitals around Morpila. Go and speak to the people there being treated for radiation poisoning. That much was made public too, the dead and the injured. Go visit the survivors, talk to them.”

“Can I not do meaningful work?”

“I’ll thank you not to insult the Homefront. Hux, let me be frank. No one knows where or how over three thousand people died and how a comparable number ended up in hospitals all over Morpila. Right now, people are looking for answers we can’t give for another two weeks, and they know it was under your command and you’re still alive. Some people are starting to blame you, and if we don’t want to be pressured into demoting you, we can’t let people think you don’t care.”

Hux gave a heavy sigh and turned to Gringoire and said, “Get me a list of the hospitals the survivors are in.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered, before turning to do exactly that.

“I still hope to be involved in the funeral and in what can and cannot be declassified.”

“Of course, you’ll have to do something on the transports,” said Yhen.

“Don’t tell Xiu planning this funeral is something to do on a transport.” Yhen let out a deep, brief snort, before saying,

“I’ll leave it to you to design where you’ll go and how many you’ll see. But you really should be seen with the shrouds at least one more time.”

Yhen took his leave soon after, and Hux was soon burying his attention in the list of where the afflicted were being treated. _Himsa Clinic, Shivaji Bhonsle Memorial Hospital, Gevherhan Valide Hospital, White Atar Clinic, Dorsuale Mithras Clinic_. They were spread all around Morpila, and he was not relishing having to go to all of them.

It was after lunch that Cynyr provided him with the morning’s records of calls from the populace. People had been calling from across the Order, some to thank him for taking a personal role in this (some of that was aggressive, a sort of “it’s your fault” hidden in there, some were tearful thanks from other unconsummate couples that he didn’t think less of them), others to yell at him to do something more _direct_ (only the old had any suggestions and that was invariably “strike back.” Against what? With what army?). He would admit he couldn’t discern much of the Homefront, but these did seem to mean _something,_ but damned if he could figure out what. 

* * *

 

The circuit of visiting hospitals was exhausting, spread out as they were across the entire planet. The last stop would be Benau’s Oyam Clinic, just before the funeral, and soon Hux was riding to the Dorsuale Mithras Clinic, where all four surviving terraforming specialists were being treated. Malgojon had come with him as well as a security detail, and Hux tried not to think that if Kylo were here he wouldn’t need the four bodyguards because if he started to think about Kylo it just hurt too much.

They reached Dorsuale Mithras Clinic mid-morning, a collection of three large buildings which each specialized in a different branch of medicine. He was directed to the room the four shared, and he _recognized_ one of them. She had dark hair and wore glasses that only made the sharpness of her eyes more intense. But she was also pallid and thin and shaking and poisoned. The other three he didn’t recognize, but he did recognize her. And felt relief, even if he didn’t know her name, she had _lived_.

Instead, he ignored everyone who crowded in the observation window, reporters and doctors and patients and his security and sat down in the only chair there and asked, “How far in treatment are you?”

“I’m halfway to pills, Doctor said,” offered one of them, a man who did look less ashy than the rest. “Cybele’s the worst of us all. She had to be pushed aboard a shuttle by a Stormtrooper.” The sharp eyed woman looked away at that.

“You did?” asked Hux.

“Others needed to be saved more than me,” she said. “I…I don’t have anyone waiting for me, but others had families.”

“That is exceedingly noble of you. What is your name?”

“Cybele Taurok.”

“Ms. Taurok, I will remember your name.” She blushed and looked down at her hands at that. “And you two?”

One of them just shrugged, and the fourth, a man who had lost his hair for the radiation said, “Murhad’s gone mute. The doctors say that happens with trauma, sometimes, but you won’t get more than nods and shrugs out of him.” The mute one, Murhad, gave a helpless shrug. There were as many systems of signing as there were languages in the galaxy, and even if they both knew one, there was no guarantee they would be at all similar.

“There’s…there’s shrouds, aren’t there?” asked the first.

“Yes. They’re laid out in Benau, the funeral won’t be for a week and a half,” said Hux.

“Sir, if…if we give you the names of our friends, would…could you get someone to leave a prayer flag?”

“Prayer tiles are more common around Benau, but yes, I think I could do that.” He went to the door and called for Malgojon to bring him a datapad, and handed it first to the one who asked, who typed out several names, tears spilling out of his eyes as he did. His friends were to be laid to rest in a public funeral, and he couldn’t even attend. How that must hurt.

The others added their own names, and when Ms. Taurok handed it back to Hux, she put her shaking hand on his wrist and said, “I know I asked for a remembrance charm on the shroud of a trooper, but General, she pushed me onto the shuttle, please sir, I promised her I would. She could have gotten aboard, I would have let her, but she pushed me on. Please, just ask a priest or an aide or someone. I promised her.”

He looked her in the eye, sharp still but filled with tears, and he wondered how this woman who wept for a Stormtrooper could have stomached what Starkiller was to do. But then again, death up close was very different than death at such a distance it became only theoretical. “It will be done,” he promised, and she fell back into her bed, smiling and wiping away tears. “You all suffered severe cases, did you not?” he asked all four of them.

Murhad nodded, tapping at the side of his throat, and the one who had spoken for him explained, “The doctors say Murhad might be anemic for the rest of his life. The blood’s been thinned, apparently. I’m a little better, I’m just at risk for it but if I avoid that I should make a full recovery. It just will take a very long time.”

“I still have a cataract in one eye,” offered the healthiest one. “I got the surgery done on one eye, but we have to wait for my brain to adjust before we do the other one.”

“I actually died for a bit,” said Taurok. “Heart stopped, on the Finalizer. They jolted me back, so I was only legally dead, but that did happen.”

He remained another ten minutes, before Malgojon knocked on the door, saying that they had to leave soon. He said his farewells, expressed hope that the cataract surgery would go well and that Murhad would be able to speak again soon, and was soon whisked away into a transport destined for the Sata Harpan Hospital, three hundred miles away, where two dozen officers were in treatment.

He was to go from room to room, as they were all spread out, and talk to the survivors. “With the terraforming specialists, you took names to have mementos left,” said Malgojon, clearly leading up to something.

“I’ll be leaving a prayer tile at every grave if that’s what I do,” objected Hux, watching the transport glide alongside the massive Prima river, pleasure and industry boats making their way in the unfamiliar ritual of waterway traffic.

“You personally won’t have to do it. But that meant quite a bit to the people who saw it, and the specialists were all crying when they made their lists.”

“Yes, when _did_ crying become the pinnacle of human expression?” The terraforming specialists cried so he had to take the names from everyone he met with, his father had supposedly cried so he had to forgive years of being uncertain what his father’s opinion towards him had been. He took a deep breath to calm himself and said, “Malgojon, make a note of Ms. Cybele Taurok.”

“What about her?”

“She only survived because a Stormtrooper pushed her aboard a shuttle, she insisted others board before her. I wish to propose her for an award for that nobility.”

“Yes, sir. Do you wish to know who is in treatment at Sata Harpan?”

“Go ahead.”

He didn’t recognize any of the names his aide read out, but perhaps one of their faces he would remember, as had happened with Ms. Taurok. Turning to his datapad, he found a message from Dr. Riil there, and opened it.

_General,_

_I saw the picture from the shrouds today, you with the little boy. I remember I spoke well of you when you were first promoted to High Command, a colleague of mine asked what I thought of you, and I said “With any luck, he’ll be more accepting of our ways. He didn’t come of age in the Empire, after all.” I’m so glad you proved me right. I don’t know if you know this, but there have been interspecies companionate marriages in the Western Crescent for a long time. We may not have travelled much under the old trade agreement system, but it did happen. I understand there is a mentality among your parents’ generation that marriages must provide children for the good of the nation, but I am so pleased to see you are no less accepting of a marriage of souls. From the moment you started studying the J’lean Empire and took their lessons to heart even through a difference of species, my fears of human essentialism in you were abated, but now I have proof for others and General, I’ve rarely been so proud of a student of mine._

_Forgive an old woman’s rambling, but you’ve brought me great joy this day._

_All the best,_

_Dr. Evgeni Riil_

_Landan University, Head of Ancient Studies Department, Ramsay Heritage County, Yvinia_

It hadn’t seemed like that massive a motion, at the time. He had long respected Dr. Riil and Professor Mabun and even Anointed Liu. And Dev Furcht had lost a parent due to Hux’s own action, he could _remember_ Sergeant Furcht, it was the least he could do, it just took Shara being there for him to know what the relation was. He didn’t know why this had driven so many people to joyful tears, and part of him was afraid to ask, for fear of sounding ignorant. But Dr. Riil had always been patient with his questions. Though, that had always been about academic and historical questions, not modern realities. Perhaps there was some water to the idea that Space Children didn’t fit with the new or the old society after all.

“Sir?” said Malgojon, catching his attention.

“Yes, Malgojon?”

“The Himsa Clinic has just contacted us, one of the technicians has just experienced severe complications, something about a tumor cutting off his breathing, and they had to take him into surgery.”

“We’re going to Sata Harpan Hospital now, I assume the technician will be out of surgery by then?”

“No sir, probably not. It’s a tumor in his throat, they have to remove it, clear out any chance of another, and install a prosthetic voice box. We might have to delay going to Himsa.”

“Surely one technician in surgery won’t change it.”

“His attending physician is the attending physician of half those in treatment, and Himsa Clinic has a very strict policy of not allowing visitors who aren’t blood related or listed as next of kin without the attending physician’s permission.”

“And so we have to delay.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How long will the delay be?”

“They estimate the surgery and post-operational procedures to take about six hours. It’s the anemia, they’re afraid he’ll bleed out.”

“I wasn’t aware anemia and hemophilia are the same thing,” he said dryly.

“They don’t exactly want one of the survivors of one of the greatest losses of life in recent Order history to die on their table, sir. It’s a precaution is all. I’ll make arrangements, we’ll spend the night in Topkapi and be at Himsa first thing tomorrow.”

“Go ahead, speak to the security detail, though.”

“Of course, sir.”

Sata Harpan was much the same as Dorsuale Mithras, and when they finally got to Himsa it was more of the same. It was still exhausting and subtly emotionally draining, and by the time they spent the night in Polis, Hux was sleeping deeply from exhaustion and yet feeling as if he couldn’t sleep at all. By the time they reached Gevherhan Valide Hospital, he was ready for this tour to be done.

Gevherhan Valide Hospital was well known and respected for its experiments in finding better treatments and cures, and there was no small amount of Starkiller personnel laid up in treatment there. Many were suffering PTSD as well, and what had become a veritable horde of media was strictly and firmly kept _out._ The Chief Doctor, a Kinnara woman named Nayanika Datta, had been very explicit about it. Flashing bright lights and loud noises would not help those who were thrown back onto a planet being torn apart by a reconstituted star when triggered.

“Many of those in treatment have consented to experimental treatments,” Dr. Datta told Hux, walking with him through the hospital. “The hope is that the treatments will halve recovery time.”

“That is quite the claim,” he said calmly.

“And that is why we are testing. We cannot unveil a new technique without knowing it would work.”

“Is it a drug?”

Whatever answer Dr. Datta was about to receive, there came from her comm a sudden shrill screaming noise, and her eyes went wide. “Corporal Riven,” she breathed. “General, I have to leave, wait here, someone will come direct you.” Immediately after that, she took off running at full speed, leaving Hux and Malgojon alone in the middle of the hospital.

“It might be a medical complication like Himsa Clinic,” offered Malgojon, but Hux just folded his lips and waited. Soon a nurse directed them to a room shared by six officers, and even as he spoke to them and took down names, he wondered what had happened to Corporal Riven. This continued, meeting those who were in treatment and speaking to them, and only after he met most of them did Dr. Datta return.

“I would apologize for running off, but my patient needed me,” she said. “He’s not in any state to meet with you right now.”

“Was it some complication from the radiation?” asked Hux.

“No. It…It is a matter of doctor patient confidentiality, sir. I can’t tell you what happened. There’s one more room, if you’ll come this way.”

Dr. Datta respected doctor patient confidentiality, but it seemed one of Corporal Riven’s ward mates, all corporals, did not have the same agreement over his head. “Riven used to be in this room with us,” said one of them, Corporal Wizen. “But then he got moved when he got put on suicide watch.”

“ _Wizen_ ,” snapped another, Corporal Lys.

Suicide watch? Was that what had happened earlier? Had he attempted to end his own life? Hux had felt from time to time that he shouldn’t have survived, but not to the point of ending his own life. With that reality over his head, he still spoke to them and took down names, and when he took his leave, braced himself to be mobbed by the press that had been denied access to Gevherhan Valide.

He seemed to be accumulating something of a procession, he thought dryly as he swallowed down his evening pills, looking out the window of his transport that was taking him to the White Atar Clinic. Independent transports, press vehicles, it reminded him vaguely of the Edan parable of the migrating court he had read.

_Together they marched, and never stood still. Out of love, the Emperor carried his Empress when she grew tired, and on he marched. The court marched too, and were afforded no rest, for as long as the Emperor walked so did they. For if they stopped, they were so numerous they would eat the people out of their homes. And so the Emperor kept walking, and so the court kept walking, for the Emperor would see his people with food, and the court would see their Emperor honored._

Professor Mabun had insisted it was talking about how the Imperial court could not afford luxury but must always think of the people at the cost of their own comfort, but Hux had askd why then the parable was not complete and why the Empress could rest.

 _“It explains in the parable,”_ Profesor Mabun had told him. _“‘Out of love.’ The Emperor bears the weight of what he loves. In the parable it is his wife, but she stands for the country. He carries the country and allows it respite where he does not allow himself or his honor rest, which is personified by the court.”_

Drinking down the rest of his water, Hux turned away from the window. They would be arriving in Kuru soon, and in the morning he was to visit White Atar Clinic.

White Atar did not have the dramatics of perhaps an attempted suicide while he was on the property, and after lunch he was whisked hundreds of miles away in time to visit Arturo Ui Hospital just after dinner. And then it was to Shivaji Bhonsle Memorial Hospital and to Sekison Kann Clinic. After that it was back north to visit the Grev Sisters Clinic and Ayşe Haseki Hospital. He felt exhausted, almost as badly as when he had been dragging himself down to medical for an injection every three hours, but at long last, they were arriving at Benau’s Oyam Clinic and Malgojon was making a list of the most important shrouds to personally lay what was asked for.

When he finished speaking to those at Oyam Clinic and finished maneuvering through the press, he was brought back to the Hotel Condott, where his room had been kept for him and where dinner would be delivered to him. All he could do was stay awake long enough to eat something and take his pills, and then immediately fall asleep, exhausted as if he were the one hospitalized. 

* * *

 

He dreamed of having too thin blood, of bleeding out from a small cut, and was eager to get his mind off medical repercussions of Starkiller’s destruction and returned to his office to find Cloche Gringoire waiting for him with the list of shrouds to visit.

“Where is Malgojon?” he asked.

“Asleep at his desk. The man barely rested during your tour, I thought five minutes wouldn’t hurt,” she said.

“Hardly professional.”

“Well with the way General Yhen’s aides have been running around I’d say he did well enough managing your tour to allow him a bit of a reward.”

“Has it really been that successful?”

“I can’t say,” said Gringoire, immediately proving herself wrong as she continued, “but there have been less whispering that you don’t care.”

“Why is the Stormtrooper on this list?” asked Hux. He had mostly said what he did to mollify Ms. Taurok, he didn’t actually plan to _find_ the trooper and make some motion of grief to someone who didn’t even truly have humanity (that wasn’t true, FN-2187 proved the idea that they weren’t fully human because of programing was false and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it).

“Well,” Gringoire said, cleaning her glasses, “that’s the other thing. There have been for a while now a mounting bit of disgruntlement in the non-human populace. Nothing approaching revolution or rebellion, mind, but it’s something that steps need to be taken to address. General Yhen’s marked it a nonissue, but most of us agree it can’t be ignored.”

“And what is it disgruntlement about, Gringoire?”

“When the Order founded, humans were still mostly mercenaries. We were the army that fought off the warlords, we made the First Accord off that agreement. High Command’s motto is ‘In Your Name’ from that agreement. But now, there’s a whole rising generation that’s never known anything _but_ the First Order. And they’re getting upset. It’s their country as much as a human’s, but we’ve built ourselves into a military state that only humans can serve in, and to them, well there have been some strongly worded publications insinuating that non-humans are becoming second class citizens. They would serve their nation but we aren’t allowing it.”

“The nation was built on our serving as the military. I can’t imagine they really dream of going to war.”

“I think it’s mostly the principle of the thing. There are trillions who are able and millions who are willing, and instead we produce Stormtroopers. We take humans, strip them of humanity, and have them serve.”

“Because we need a class of soldiers who don’t know the rest of the world. Going into battle with interests and preferences and all that means that your sense of self gets destroyed the second the battle begins. With a class that doesn’t know _any_ of that, they can’t be destroyed.”

“Ultimately it _sounds_ like a good thing in the long run,” agreed Gringoire.

“Do you disagree, Gringoire?”

“I’m not certain where I stand on this issue, sir. But this was the only Stormtrooper grave asked of you, and all you have to do is set down a remembrance charm, and that will put people at ease.”

_We can’t go to war if half the war is fighting against our own troops. And we certainly can’t if the rest is fought against our own people._

Hux didn’t say anything, but he didn’t object, and that was as close as he would get to agreeing to it.

It wasn’t to be a grand ceremony, Hux fulfilling his promises, he’d simply have a bodyguard or two and go out quietly just after lunch and leave the tiles or flags or charms. The idea of making a display of it felt too much like the Republic’s senators in their elaborate clothing drawing attention to themselves with speeches and entourages on every small decision. And it certainly wouldn’t do to do so in a pseudo-graveyard.

Still, it didn’t stop anyone from being aware what was happening, with the press at a distance as if it made them subtle as they tried to take candid shots of his going around. Prayer tiles and prayer flags were set down as they had been asked for, and Hux read their names and didn’t recognize half of them. Most of them had a few remembrances, others were already overflowing. Brigadier General Lu Mako’s father was already kneeling in front of it, singing heartbroken lullabies and broke down in tears entirely when Hux knelt beside him to set down a prayer flag that rustled quietly in the breeze. The old man clasped his arm for a long moment before pulling himself together and excusing himself.

When time finally came to leave the charm on the Stormtrooper’s shroud, he braced himself before walking into the desolate white of the shrouds, empty of remembrances but for what religious leaders set down. As the blue and silver shrouds were organized alphabetically, the Stormtroopers were ordered numerically, but there were just so _many_ it took ages before he finally found the white shroud of SK-1192.

It had a single prayer tile on it, and standing beside it an amphibious being stood, one of the Guides from the Ceos Faith mostly found in the Pallas system, he thought. They were memorable, the Guides wore brightly colored robes with prisms and mirrors sewed onto them, and sung their prayers in earworm cadences.

“You are mortal,” the Guide was singing, “you cannot tell what might befall when tomorrow comes, nor yet how long one who appears blessed will remain that way. So soon our fortunes change! Even the long-winged fly turns around less suddenly.”

Hux wanted so badly to just toss down the charm and have done with it, but the Guide noticed him and let off their prayers to turn and comment, “You are the first human who does not wear the cloth to stand among these forsaken souls. I am Guide Corin, of the Pallas System.”

“I am General Hux.”

“I know who you are, General. You are the face High Command likes to put forth. Understandable, you are the youngest, and have one of the more pleasing faces.” Hux smiled tightly, and knelt down, setting the charm down, a single variation among thousands. The thought connected to FN-2187, and he wanted to stop thinking. “You leave a charm at one shroud among thousands. Why does SK-1192 deserve this honor?”

“I spoke to a survivor of the base,” he said. “She claimed she lived only because this Stormtrooper forced her to. She begged me to leave this.”

“A charm for the one you spoke to, but not a thought to the soul.”

He stood slowly only because he had no idea how many eyes were on him, and turned to Guide Corin and said, “Guide Corin, I never spoke to this Stormtrooper in my life. I grieve what happened, but I do not have enough thoughts in my head for each soul, let alone for each Stormtrooper.”

Guide Corin folded their hands, robes shifting to throw a rainbow of light across the shroud they stood by, and one of the mirrors allowed Hux to see his own reflection as Guide Corin inflated the sac under their chin with a gentle croak in what probably equated a sigh. “General, let me tell you of the Revelation of the Soul. It was granted to Thessa in a dream, and they penned it down exactly as they heard it from the Divine.” It was probably bad form to tell a Guide that you didn’t actually have any interest in their faith, Hux thought. “There is life, and then there is life with soul. A tree lives, a blade of grass lives, but there is not soul. What then, determines soul? What is soul? Souls are the waters of the Divine, rushing according to the Divine’s order. If there is a physical body, there is a spiritual body. We move by grace of the Divine, _movement_ is soul.

“Stormtroopers move, Stormtroopers have physical bodies, therefore, by the revelation given to Thessa, Stormtroopers have souls. These Stormtroopers, these men and women…I do not know how I feel about them. I do not know how I feel about the whole idea of them, honestly. Whatever or whoever they were to the Empire, there has never been an equivalent here in the Western Crescent. The Pallas System made our accord with the First Order and we are loyal to our nation, but it is the Stormtroopers that we do not understand.”

“They are programed from birth, everyone knows that.”

“But _why_ would humans do that to their very brothers and sisters? Such slavery is not found in most species or cultures. Species enslave other species but not their own. There are law codes that slavery for a period of years should be punishment for a crime, but they are always freed at the end. Why would humans enslave their own? Strip them of humanity and forbid them to ever find it? There is no set limit of years, they spend their whole lives without identity. You are human, you might know the answer, but the rest of us do not.”

“It is in the long run kinder to have a class that knows only war so they cannot be torn apart by it,” said Hux.

“But why? Why do you force your own brothers and sisters to be less than nothing, to be only numbers to you? Why, when you have the loyalty of trillions? We of the Pallas system would fight for the Order just as much as a human born from Imperial stock, we would bear the weight of war for the nation we love.”

“I didn’t make the decision.”

“No, you would have been too young. But look to these shrouds. No one’s left a single flower, nor a remembrance. All these souls have are these prayer tiles. They do not even have a name. Look to these shrouds, and think. Whether or not you can change things, change within yourself. They are your siblings as much as any of those marked with silver or blue, for they have the same waters of the Divine within them as you and I do.”

It was so obviously a sermon, but he had to give credit, now Hux was hyperaware of just how empty these shrouds were. Maybe it was because the Guide’s robes were sewn with such mirrors that he kept seeing his own face staring back at him from the corner of his eye, but he felt suddenly and incredibly unsettled. He wanted to turn and run back to his office, but he was a _professional_ and who even knew how many were staring at him at that moment.

“I will remember that,” Hux finally said. Guide Corin nodded, the sac inflating again with the same gentle croak.

Shaking out their robes, they reached to hold their hand just above Hux’s brow and sang in an earworm cadence, “What is a man? What is he not? A dream of a shadow is our mortal being. But when there comes to men a gleam of splendor given of the Divine, then rests on them a light of glory and blessed are their days.”

With the granted blessing, Guide Corin moved on, singing prayers with rainbows and circles of light glinting off their bright robes. 

* * *

 

The day of the funeral dawned with a clear sky and still air. It seemed the whole world was holding its breath. The shrouds were tied into bundles containing all that was left on them, and as the square slowly cleared, the crowds came, all dressed in mourning clothes of their culture. They came to see the pyre, to know what _happened_ , to mourn those they lost.

Hux wore his dress uniform and did not wear the hat, because one took off one’s hat at a funeral. He felt incomplete without it, but tradition was tradition, and it was Heloisie Cynyr who reminded him to wrap the black lace of imperial mourning about his neck. Yhen, Xiu, and Sen had the same wrap, and it was strange seeing Delan with her head and shoulders covered with the distinctive black lace women were to wear. All of them looked as sick at heart as they had when they had first come together, two weeks before. The only reason Hux ate anything that morning was so that his pills wouldn’t tear apart his stomach lining, and he was clinging to the reminder that after the funeral, it was his duty as commander of the flagship of the First Order to make certain their border with the Republic was not contested in these uncertain days. At least he would be gone within the day.

High Command stood on a raised platform to see the pyre and to address the crowds, joined by the representative of Morpila, Brihadratha Shunga, and off to the side was the singer Xiu had found. There were to be speeches and the pyre would be lit and the mourning song would be sung, allowing music to be played in public again. It was a dreadful business, looking at the pyre more white than anything else.

Representative Shunga gave the first speech, followed by General Yhen, then Generals Delan, Xiu, Sen, and finally Hux stepped forward to give his. The crowd was made up of so many faces all desperate for answers, all grieving a loss, and it certainly wasn’t in his nature to give long emotional speeches when a short one could do.

“Today,” he said, “we stand together facing one of the greatest losses of life in the history of the First Order. Three thousand six hundred and eighty five dead, and many hospitalized for radiation poisoning. Today we stand together to lay them to rest, to mourn them, and to remember them forever, for they gave the ultimate sacrifice one can give for their nation. I could make promises of how the Order will move on from this, that we will rise again, but those promises have all been made by those before me, and where there is a place for force, so too is there a place for prudence. On this day, we cannot rouse to glory, on this day we can only remember and mourn.”

A torch heavily perfumed with incense was brought to him, and he lit the pyre, stepping back to watch it burn, listening to a single voice let out a pained wail somewhere in the crowds. He stared into the flames and wished they hadn’t adopted shroud burials, for every one of them had died at the hands of fire, could they not be laid to rest any other way? The shrouds burned in a massive pyre, and among the tears the singer Xiu had found, Rudolf Bauer, began to sing.

His voice was honey-sweet, low and soft and full of the mournful ponderous longing the song required. It was a voice that smoothed over pain and where had Xiu found this man? “Fading away like stars in the morning, losing their light to the glorious sun,” he was singing, voice carrying over the dull roar of the pyre and the stray sobs. “Thus would we pass from this life and it’s toiling; only remembered by what we have done. Only remembered, only remembered, only remembered by what we have done. Thus would we pass from this life and it’s toiling; only remembered by what we have done.

“Only the truth that in life we have spoken, only the seeds that in life we have sown. These shall pass onwards when we are forgotten; only remembered by what we have done. Only remembered, only remembered, only remembered by what we have done. These shall pass onwards when we are forgotten; only remembered by what we have done.

“Who’ll sing the anthem and who’ll tell the story? Will the line hold? Will it scatter and run? Shall we at last be united in glory? Only remembered by what we have done. Only remembered, only remembered, only remembered by what we have done. Shall we at last be united in glory? Only remembered by what we have done? Only remembered by what we have done?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://starkilleraflame.tumblr.com/)


	9. Chapter 9

“Your court date is in a week,” said Hux, the second the door to Phasma’s (rank temporarily revoked) medical detention cell closed behind him. She looked to be in bad shape, her hair completely fallen out and eyes sunken. He could see nearly every vein under her skin, and she looked exhausted to even be sitting upright. “It will be held via holos.”

“Is the system secure enough for that?” she asked.

“High Command’s communications were the first rebuilt. They’re secure enough. I’m to be called as a witness of character and of what happened that day, I won’t be handling your sentence if I’m to take on that role.”

“I’m to die, aren’t I?” It was said so bluntly, so assuredly, that even Hux blinked. “The Supreme Leader wanted me dead. This is a show trial.”

“That’s not necessarily true. You are an officer, you are entitled to a fair trial. In deliberation, _yes_ , the Supreme Leader’s opinion will be taken into account, but it does not guarantee that you will be found guilty.” It was possible he would be the one punished, for giving blanket permission to do whatever action she deemed “least damaging” but it wouldn’t do to give her false hope.

“Who is running the review of the Stormtroopers while I’m in here?”

“General Delan is the one overseeing the review, as I was deemed too partial. I don’t know who is reviewing the surviving Stormtroopers or the rest of the Finalizer’s anymore, as they do not need to go through me to do the review.”

“Probably Commander Sahlen,” she muttered.

“I don’t see how that’s particularly relevant. In any case, I only came to tell you that.”

“He’s going to try and hide things. If he’s in charge only because I’m in here, he’s going to try and make it look like it was incompetent leadership that let us get where we are. Like now that he’s in charge suddenly everything is fixed.”

He raised a brow at her, but did make the metal note to pass on that judgment of character. With a grain of salt, of course, but if she was accepting of death then there wasn’t much she’d get out of it. “If that is all, Phasma,” he said, and swiftly left the detention cell. One of the lieutenants had legal training, she’d be the lawyer for this trial and would be meeting with her now that the date had been set, and he had a starship to command.

Very few of the _Finalizer_ ’s personnel had been on base or ever _went_ on base, and as a result there had been very, very few losses from the crew. It was comforting to see the same faces and not see their names on a shroud. He didn’t _express_ that, obviously, but he felt it nonetheless. Things were tense and quiet, but at least he wasn’t surrounded by shrouds or those who were poisoned and hospitalized anymore.

The _Finalizer_ was keeping close patrol to the borders, a declaration of protection. He had announced days after the funeral just what those who died had perished doing, and went to protect his nation. Yhen was keeping him up to date on the response of the public, and at the moment, there seemed no consensus. There were those who insisted it was a cowardly and cruel weapon, others praising that their children would not die for war if only it had fired. Others too insisted that because it had never fired it was naught more than a tragedy to be mourned and in a hundred years, a moral question to debate in regards to ethics.

There were as many responses as there were citizens, and at least _he_ wasn’t the one dealing with it. Gringoire, Cynyr, and Malgojon were keeping him updated about public opinion about _him_ specifically, and it seemed that there was no special hatred for him. Those who hated what Starkiller was were angry at High Command as a whole, so at least he would not be forced to step down by way of public pressure.

Grief was starting to settle, and though he kept the black lace about his neck to mourn the loss of his base, there was already a competition of artists to create an appropriate memorial. High Command had all said their piece, all expressed grief, and now Snoke was the only one left. Things could resolve soon from this great loss of life, or at least that was the hope.

It was good to be back to the normal routines of life, and yet each day that passed without incident, he found himself missing Kylo. Who knew what he was going through now? It had been three weeks since he had gone, and who knew how far along in sensory deprivation he was?

Still, if he focused on routine, on order, on the hours passing, if he kept order in himself, Hux could avoid falling into despair from over worrying.

And now, work included passing to General Delan the judgment of character from a woman who accepted death and had nothing to lose. He’d wait until a decent hour for her, but he’d tell her as soon as possible. For now, he had duties to attend to. 

 

* * *

 

Commander Sahlen _had_ taken over for the Stormtroopers, though he could not take the rank of Captain until and unless Phasma was declared guilty in her trial. He was a man older than Hux and he seemed calm and assured in his new duties, participating in the review with professionalism and from what Hux could see, without causing distress or suspicion in the ranks of the Stormtroopers. Perhaps it was easier to review the troops under the guise of coming to command even if he had been involved in the program before.

With Delan’s sharp and steely warning not to interfere with the review due to the fact that he was not impartial, he was surprised when she met with him about it, and even more surprised when she sent away the secretary officer, citing that it was meant for his ears alone.

“I stand by what I said,” she told him. “You aren’t impartial about the Stormtrooper review. But given where the break happened your troops must be the ones closest observed. And frankly, Hux, I don’t trust that Commander who has been reporting for your ship.”

“Commander Sahlen?” asked Hux. “What has he done worth suspicion?”

“He was Captain Phasma’s second in command, records say, the most senior under her. Why then, in our meetings has he told me he was not aware of the percentage of reeducation slips all designated for undermining the dignity of the officers?”

“If I am as biased as you say, why then are you telling me this?”

“I want you to find someone on that ship not part of the Stormtrooper program to find me data. Former Captain Phasma may be right, I fear, Commander Sahlen might be trying to smooth over what might come out to be massive problems to make himself look good.”

“And you want the real data.”

“Yes. Can you find someone trustworthy to report?”

“This ship has over a thousand officers on board, I’m sure I can find someone.”

Easier said than done. Who was discreet enough to find out the truth of the situation who was not part of the Stormtrooper program and could yet understand it? He couldn’t know everyone on the ship, and so by habit he glanced through the bridge crew who had duty when he did. He knew them best, and if all else he could rely on them to find someone, loathe as he was to do so. They were all professionals, hardworking and dedicated and the best of the best to have this prioritized duty.

His first instinct was Unamo; she was as strictly professional as he was, she had never in her three years under his command had so much as a single hair out of place. But, he remembered, she was _brutally_ professional. It had its values, it was why she would be promoted to commanding officer in an emergency situation, but not for _this_ situation.

Who then would be best? Was there some Petty Officer somewhere on the ship who could do the work perfectly and he just didn’t know them?

There was a shift at the corner of his eye, and Hux turned to see what it was. Merely Lieutenant Mitaka, shifting his weight. The man’s position put him at one of the few standing consoles for hours at a time. There was a chair nearby, explicitly and only for the use of the officer at that console, their duty was extremely physical and it could lead to any kind of chronic pain down the road, and yet Mitaka tended to stay standing his whole shift.

And just like that, it clicked. Mitaka. He was quiet, he kept his head down, did his work, of _course_ no one would think to question him, he never did anything worth questioning. The man _stood_ where others made use of the chair.

When shift ended and reliefs came, Mitaka’s quietly chewed him out for standing so long, and only stopped when Hux said, “Lieutenant Mitaka, come with me, I need to speak with you.”

“Yes, sir,” agreed the Lieutenant, following him to his office.

The fact that there was no recording inside was a blessing, because it allowed for such messages to be as discreet as they needed to be. “Lieutenant, what I am going to tell you does not leave this room. You will be required to keep everything secret, even if that means lying to everyone around you. Can you do that?”

“If that is what is asked of me, yes,” said Mitaka calmly.

Hux nodded and said, “You know every Stormtrooper is, as of this moment, considered compromised. Particularly on this ship.”

“There has been talk that there is a review.”

“I expect nowhere near the ‘Troopers. But now that Phasma is in medical custody awaiting trial, Commader Sahlen has taken over. Lieutenant, there is reason to believe that the Commander is hiding facts and keeping information so as to make himself look like a more competent leader. That alone is cause for concern, but in this situation it could mean that every compromised Stormtrooper is allowed to make the program fall apart.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?”

“You are to find the actual data on the Stormtroopers and report it to General Delan. Percentages of cause for reeducation, monthly numbers of reeducation, so on. Raw data. Can you do that?”

“I will do my best.”

“Will your best be success?”

Mitaka paused for a moment before he said, “The only thing anyone can do is try. Before anyone can succeed, one has to attempt. Before anyone can fail, one has to attempt. I can only do what I can.”

“I can shield you from being taken to trial, acquit you of whatever charges might be brought against you, but that is all that I can do. If you are caught, you might be vilified for obstructing the review in a desperate time. Can you handle that?”

“I suppose I would just have to not be caught. Is there a time by which General Delan needs this information?”

“Presumably before Phasma’s trial.”

“Five days.” Hux nodded, that was a matter of public knowledge now.

“If you can do it in less, that would be much appreciated.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed, Lieutenant.” Mitaka saluted, and turned to leave. “Lieutenant? Next shift, I’m giving you an explicit order to use that chair for at least ten minutes.”

“My duty says stay at my station.”

“I notice it doesn’t say physically destroy yourself. You take the most dangerous job, the reason you’re standing is so if any hostile breaks into the bridge you are the first line of defense. We are merely patrolling our borders in a show of strength, the _Eclipse_ is doing the same thing. Sit down before you acquire a spinal injury.”

“…Yes sir.”

“Dismissed.” 

 

* * *

 

It was three days into Mitaka’s quiet investigation that Yhen called a meeting of High Command. It was somewhat uncommon for him to do so, running the Homefront didn’t usually require more than the standard meetings. Still, he had a tense set to his face as they all connected.

“It has been a month since Starkiller,” he said. “And nearly two weeks since the funeral. And Leader Snoke has not addressed the nation.”

“Yhen, what–” started Xiu.

“The populace is beginning to agree that the Supreme Leader does not care about his own nation. They have more trust in High Command than in Leader Snoke.”

“Because he hasn’t addressed the populace about Starkiller,” guessed Sen.

“Exactly.”

A compromised army, a populace that now distrusted its leader, and the possibility of war around the corner. And nothing to be done. “Leader Snoke does not speak to the people but at his own wish,” said Delan. “We can’t order him to do so.”

“But if he does not address this, then it will only solidify the people against him. Against the governance that holds the country together on the brink of war!”

“Are you suggesting that a civil war might break out?” asked Hux quietly. A hush fell over High Command, not wanting it true.

“I don’t know what might happen,” said Yhen eventually. “But things…don’t look good.”

“Should we come back from the borders?” asked Sen.

“Be ready,” said Delan. “Times like these, anything could change.”

“Exactly,” agreed Yhen. “Right now, I think the only reason we are trusted above Leader Snoke is because of how the funeral was handled. Right now, we could be on borrowed time.”

“High Command works as the hand of the Supreme Leader,” said Xiu. “If we work to improve our image, then perhaps people will trust Snoke more.”

Privately, Hux could only think that Snoke needed to be as visible as High Command. That he should do more than live in reclusion with the Knights and yet receive credit for all he did. He had made himself mythical, only appearing a few times a year, and when he appeared he was to be celebrated, feted like a hero. The Emperors of old held public court, or had their images spread through the empire. People knew who ruled them.

“Push forward the fund for widowers and widows of Starkiller,” he said instead. “Support for those who need it would be well looked upon.”

“The competition for designs for the memorial is already underway,” added Xiu. “What is public opinion on Starkiller as a whole?”

“There is no consensus, and I truly doubt there ever will be,” said Yhen. “Some praise that it would have saved lives on our side, others say it was cruel to ever think of it. The saving grace is, perhaps, that it never fired.”

“Do you have any spectacular nuggets of wisdom from ages past, Hux?” asked Delan.

“None, I’m afraid,” said Hux. “The only comparison is the Deathstar, and you all remember it better than I do.”

They disconnected soon after, and Hux had an hour before anything pressing. In the past he would sit and read of ages past, just as Delan had said, but to hear that a civil war might erupt in a nation he truly loved, he needed to just go for a walk, inspect his own ship and know that at least _that_ was running smoothly.

The _Finalizer_ was four kilometers long, and two wide at its widest point. To pace the length of it would take longer than an hour, and to run the length of it was hardly dignified. So, he would walk as far as he could. At the first lift he went down a floor and chose a direction and walked until he found another lift, and repeated the process. He saw engineers working on wiring within the walls, Stormtroopers attending to some duty or another, officers returning to their bunks for a nap, officers trying to hide the fact that they were very clearly fraternizing, engineers and officers making eyes at each other, and he had seen all that long before Starkiller exploded. That was a comfort.

He was deep in the belly of the ship, back where on the _Aggressor_ every child had been dumped in old training halls to amuse themselves and where now the Stormtroopers were left in more or less the same position when they weren’t training, when he found Commander Sahlen speaking tersely to some Sergeant or another.

“Is something the matter, Commander?” he asked, to watch Sahlen whip his head around. It brought him a rush of private pleasure, to see those older than him obey his orders. Psychologists said that Space Children felt by and large helpless and sought to have control due to the formative experience of their entire childhood was characterized by discord, disorder, and finally by the wars that killed many around them, something entirely beyond their control. Anxiety and depression was common, they said. Hux just enjoyed making those he had once saluted to salute him.

“General Hux, sir,” greeted Sahlen. “No sir, nothing at all.”

“I see. Sergeant, is something the matter?” the young woman Sahlen had been speaking to suddenly stiffened and glanced at her Commander.

“No sir,” she said.

“Commander Sahlen, you are dismissed.”

“Sir,” protested the man.

“ _Dismissed,_ Commander.” Sahlen saluted then, and walked away, leaving the Sergeant and Hux alone in the hallway. “I’ll ask again, Sergeant. Is something the matter?”

“No sir, nothing.”

“Sergeant, how long have you been in the Stormtrooper program?”

“Just a few weeks, sir. I’m really only just graduated from the Academy.”

“And you’re aware there is a review going on of the entire program?”

“Yes, sir. Ever since the defector left.”

“Then I would like a very good reason of why you are keeping information from me about it.”

She nearly wilted under his stare, would have if it weren’t for the fact that she went through just as much military training as he had. Finally she let out a breath, squared her shoulders and said, “Commander Sahlen doesn’t want me submitting reports or suggestions for reeducation. He says that this review is crucial to his career and he doesn’t want it besmirched by anything. If we send a group to reeducation, he says, it will reflect badly on his new leadership. They’re singing now, and he doesn’t want me reporting it.”

“Singing?” echoed Hux.

“Yes sir.” She gestured for him to follow, and they entered onto the walk above one of the Stormtroopers’ recreation rooms (hardly that even, but a place close enough to deserve the name) and hung back by the door. No one below could see them, but Hux could hear that yes, they were singing. He had long thought that the pilots’ death song was the most chilling song he could ever hear, and yet here were the Stormtroopers, somehow _singing_ and their song was somehow _worse._ Perhaps because it was directed at him.

“If you want to find the General, I know where he is,” sang the troopers, their voices far from beautiful. “I know where he is, I know where he is. If you want to find the General, I know where he is, he’s pinning another medal on his chest. I saw him! I saw him! Pinning another medal on his chest! I saw him! I saw him! Pinning another medal on his chest!

“If you want to find the colonel, I know where she is. I know where she is, I know where she is. If you want to find the colonel I know where she is, she’s on the ship miles above the line. I saw her! I saw her! On the ship miles above the line! I saw her! I saw her! On the ship miles above the line!

“If you want to find the Captain I know where she is. I know where she is, I know where she is. If you want to find the Captain I know where she is. She’s in the shuttle outside the line of fire. I saw her! I saw her! In the shuttle out of the line of fire! I saw her! I saw her! In the shuttle out of the line of fire!

“If you want to find the trooper, I know where he is! I know where he is! I know where he is! If you want to find the trooper, I know where he is, he’s shot through and then left to die! I saw him! I saw him! Shot through and then left to die! I saw him! I saw him! Shot through and then left to die.”

His head was ringing with Guide Corin’s sermon, and he took a deliberate breath before leaving, the Sergeant behind him. “You were right to wish to report this,” he said. “Right now, we cannot reeducate any of them until the review is finished. Report this, keep on file which division it was, and monitor what spreads.”

“Yes sir.”

“And come with me, Sergeant.”

“Sir?”

“I want your testimony on the official record of the review.”

General Delan had fire in her eyes, and the Sergeant looked terrified to face her, even through a holo, but still upon prompting to state her name, rank, and to explain the situation, she said with a steady voice, “I am Sergeant Yena Delicu, I work in the Stormtrooper program. At roughly fourteen hundred hours today I noted the Stormtroopers singing in one of their recreation rooms. In the past, that song had been explained to me to send every ‘Trooper who sang it into reeducation for the subordination of rank and disregard to the dignity of officers. I reported it to Commander Sahlen, as he was nearby, and I am still new enough to the program that my superior officers want my reports supervised to make certain they are correct. Commander Sahlen told me, however, that the review was crucial to him. Not to the Order, but to his career. He told me that I should not report what I saw lest it reflect badly on him and if I did I would lose my position and be sent home dishonorably discharged. That was when General Hux arrived. He sent Commander Sahlen away and asked for my report, and after I explained the situation asked for this report to be on the record of the review.”

“He threatened you with dishonorable discharge if you reported a reeducational offense?” echoed Delan. “In the midst of a review?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“If General Hux had not arrived, what would you have done, Sergeant Delicu?”

“Ma’am…I’m not proud of it. But I would probably have let it go unreported. I have a daughter, ma’am, my brother is taking care of her, and if I were to be dishonorably discharged from this ship, I would be unable to find a job of good standing nor would I receive a pension. I could get by on my own, but I couldn’t give my daughter the life she needs.”

“You have a daughter, Sergeant? You had her while still in the Academy?”

“Ma’am, I graduated with honors. That is why I made Sergeant upon graduation. I scored top of my class in psychology, my paper on chaining behaviors was peer reviewed and published, and the fact that I was taking care of an infant during that time never hindered me,” said Sergeant Delicu, her voice strong and hard, pride filling what professionalism did seconds before.

“At ease, Sergeant. I meant no disrespect. Sergeant, that is all I need you for, thank you. You are dismissed.” Sergeant Delicu saluted and left, leaving Hux and the secretary officer there. “Hux?”

“Yes?” he prompted, stepping into view.

“This conversation is off the record. When this review is done, after I get hard evidence for it, I want you to dismiss Commander Sahlen, and send him right off your ship. I have no patience for people like him.”

“Is this for obstruction of a review under your command or is this his threatening of a subordinate officer under _my_ command?”

“Both. Either. I want him out of the structure of the First Order.”

“And I want him off my ship. I hope you get your evidence soon, Delan.”

“Sergeant Delicu’s testimony goes a long way. Go run your ship, Hux.”

It was at the end of the day, just before he left his office that Mitaka appeared with that evidence Delan wanted so badly. It was vast, raw data; percentages, logs, records, it looked as if he had managed to get every piece of data out of the program entirely. “I thought it best to bring it to you,” Mitaka said. “Every channel I know to General Delan goes through aides or subordinate officers, and you did say it was for her eyes only.”

“You’ve done very well, Mitaka, thank you,” praised Hux, even as he sent it through High Command’s communications. The rest of the system was being rebuilt and they still used secretaries for most if not all records, but High Command’s was finished and secure.

“Sir, I think you should know. As I was working to collect it, sir I realized that Commander Sahlen is–”

“Is blackmailing those under his command to obstruct the review on pain of dishonorable discharge?” Hux completed. “Yes, Lieutenant, I have become aware.”

“How, sir?”

“I ran across him doing so to a new Sergeant and got her testimony. That and this evidence you have given will likely be enough to get _him_ discharged.”

“It’s an awful thing he’s doing.”

“But not uncommon, unfortunately. That is why we must be vigilant, and I am glad you would have brought it to my attention had I not already known.”

“I’m not in the program, he couldn’t do anything to me. I had to.”

“And that is why I trusted you with this task.” Dismissing Mitaka, he allowed himself a moment to bury his face in his hands. Phasma was to go to trial in two days, her possible replacement was corrupt, their nation might fall to civil war, and he didn’t know what to do. 

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t in the same room as Phasma during her trial, but appeared as a holo as the rest of High Command did. She looked absolutely awful, with her counsel and physician with her to give her her injections as treatment required both refusing to let her even stand. How had she managed it in Snoke’s Fortress?

“Iskra Phasma,” intoned General Xiu, speaking in Common Tongue as secretary officers typed to keep up with the court record. “You are brought before this court of justice for the charge brought against you by the Supreme Leader himself, that you lowered the shields on Starkiller Base, allowing for its destruction and allowing for over three thousand deaths. Do you understand why you were brought before us?”

“I do understand why I was brought before you,” said Phasma, her voice even and devoid of emotion.

“Iskra Phasma, you have been stripped of your rank due to these charges. Do you understand that we are not, however, judging as one would a private citizen? Do you understand that we charge you on military grounds due to charges brought against your actions as part of the military?”

“I do understand why I am being judged as according to the rank I held.”

“Generals Zora Delan, Brendol Hux Junior, Itri Sen, and Shihab Yhen, do you understand why we gather to judge Iskra Phasma?”

“We do understand,” they intoned together.

“And I, Astraphel Xiu, understand. Iskra Phasma, present your legal counsel.”

“I have brought Lieutenant Yildiz Orrig as my legal counsel.”

“Lieutenant Orrig, do you understand what you are charged to do?”

“I do understand,” she intoned.

“Then, Lieutenant Orrig, make your case.”

Lieutenant Orrig took a breath before she began, for it was her job to defend her client in front of High Command. This was the greatest calling a lawyer had. “Iskra Phasma, then Captain Phasma, has been known through the Stormtrooper program as being efficient and honest in her work. She received the rank of presiding captain over the Stormtroopers on the First Order’s own flagship, essentially granting her the position of presiding captain over every commissioned Stormtrooper. She kept to protocol and never had a complaint. By all accounts, Phasma has been as model as the perfect soldier.

“On the day of Starkiller’s destruction, Phasma was reviewing the process of the Finalizer’s first round of Stormtrooper review with General Hux. She had never once questioned authority, but did so when General Hux ordered the Resistance craft orbiting the planet be allowed to leave and be tracked back to the Resistance base. She questioned whether it was wise, and General Hux told her that that day was to operate not under a question of what was wise but what might cause the least damage.

“If what General Hux believed would cause the least amount of damage instead culminated in the deaths of thousands, why then, should Iskra Phasma’s actions, taken under the assumption that they would cause the least amount of damage, be judged any more harshly? If it is forgiven that her commanding officer should make decisions that lead to the death of his subordinates, then why should his subordinate be blamed for the same?

“Generals of High Command, I recognize and understand that the Supreme Leader brought charges against Iskra Phasma, but I ask you to think independently of his suggestion and instead arrive at judgment on your own, for when two minds arrive at the same point independent of each other, then surely it is a finer point to be made?”

With a respectful nod, she stepped back, signaling her case finished. As she did, Xiu said, “General Brendol Hux Junior. Will you give a record of your interactions with Iskra Phasma the day of Starkiller’s destruction?”

“I will not make guesses of exact periods of time, but midmorning Iskra Phasma and I met to review the first pass of the review, to see preliminary results. This was a request I made, she came down from the Finalizer at my request to meet with her,” said Hux. “Part way through, the late Sergeant Brandt Furcht came to tell me that a Resistance ship was in orbit, too far up for any weapons to hit, and on the far side of the planet from the Finalizer, outside of her weapons rage. I ordered it to be tracked so that we could find where the Resistance is hiding, and Iskra Phasma did ask whether or not it was a wise decision. I was short of temper that day, we had already lost a battalion of Stormtroopers and nine pilots not a full day earlier. I told her that it was a question of what might cause the least damage, not was most wise, yes. I was in the command center, overseeing the charging of the weapon when a report was made to me that the shields were down. Within seconds Resistance pilots were on base, and it was not ten minutes later that the destruction began.”

“General,” said Lieutenant Orrig. “What is your impression of Iskra Phasma, having worked with her?”

“She was a remarkable soldier, loyal and competent. She had no patience for fools and did what she could to inspire her same loyalty among the Stormtroopers. She wore her armor all the time, made herself into something the Stormtroopers could respect, she told me once. Her replacement does no such thing.” Delan didn’t react to that, and it was impressive that she did not, to Hux.

Lieutenant Orrig continued to speak in defense of Phasma, who part way through her own rationalizing of her decisions was ordered to stop to receive her treatment. Leading Stormtroopers were brought in to testify as entirely objective parties due to lack of complex personhood (Hux wanted to shift uncomfortably at that, not that he could), as were officers in the program. Sergeant Delicu herself was brought in to testify towards Phasma’s efficiency as leader compared to Commander Sahlen, and a long established officer to compare Phasma to her predecessor, Captain Elihu.

When he wasn’t speaking, Hux was muted, so that he might not influence anyone with any noises he might make. That was standard for all presiding members of High Command, and it was what allowed Major Arding to appear in the room, looking for all the worlds as if she wanted to be anywhere but intruding as she was. He didn’t move, not even to glance at her as Xiu prompted Lieutenant Orrig to ask what she would of the officer who had survived Starkiller.

“Sir,” said Major Arding, “there is an unmarked ship hailing us. They’re using Order Frequencies, the new ones too, and they’re asking permission to come aboard to meet with you specifically. Upon recess from this judgment, your crew would ask you to come reply. We have said you are unavailable and will answer when you can.” With a sharp salute, she left again, and Hux now had a rush of confusion. Who would meet with him without announcing who they were? And use new frequencies?

“Colonel Mór, in your recovery room,” Lieutenant Orrig was asking, “what was the consensus of blame?”

“There was none,” answered Colonel Mór, still bald but looking no worse off than Hux himself did. “We mourned, yes, but we never had anyone to blame. Mostly, we cursed the Resistance as a whole.”

“Generals, I speak from my own experience, after Leader Snoke made it clear that Iskra Phasma lowered the shields it became very well known on this ship. Colonel Mór, even after hearing that, you never blamed her?”

“Not particularly. I can’t speak for everyone, but I never found her at fault, not really.”

“Have you ever known Iskra Phasma?”

“I knew of her. But I had never spoken to her.”

“Colonel Mór,” asked Yhen, “if you were called upon to guess, would you say anyone else blames Iskra Phasma?”

“In my recovery room, when the news reached us, we did not talk about it. Not really. And then we were separated upon arrival to Morpila. In my room now, I share it with three others, and we do not talk about it. But when I told them I was called to testify, they told me I should not let grief take reason. I would venture to say that no one in my immediate acquaintance blames Iskra Phasma more than they do the Resistance.”

“Are there any further questions for Colonel Mór?” asked Xiu. None replied and he continued, “You are dismissed, Colonel. Our thanks for your testimony.”

With a salute, Colonel Mór disappeared. Lieutenant Orrig presented the next length of her case, that even randomly selected no one personally blamed Phasma and it was cruel to offer blood when no one was asking for it, when it would only rouse up the ugliest of internal natures and that should be avoided. There were two more testimonies of randomly selected officers from Starkiller to hear, and then there would be a recess for an hour. Even as he listened to the testimonies, Hux wondered, could he let whoever it was hailing him from an unmarked vessel just…wait?

The last was dismissed and Xiu called recess, and when he disconnected, Hux took a long, deep breath, and turned to leave the room. The secretaries were finishing up their jobs, and he needed space to think, even if he was walking to the bridge to do it. He didn’t want to call for Phasma’s blood, but objectively she was to blame. But by that same logic, was he not to blame for telling her to use her own judgment rather than simply follow orders? And with the threat of civil war, would it not stabilize the country if High Command agreed with Snoke’s ruling? Present a united government? Or would that simply tilt the scales to civil war?

The door to the bridge slid open, and Hux saw in his officers extreme tension. This was an unknown. So far friendly, but there was a still an unmarked vessel none could find an origin from using their own frequencies, asking for their General.

“General,” greeted Unamo, going to join him.

“I have an hour before the trial recommences, what exactly has been happening?” he asked, following her to a communications officer’s station, who obediently pulled up the hail.

“It came in just over an hour ago, sir,” said the Officer. “I intercepted it, they respond to our messages the same way every time, sir.”

_We will meet with General Hux. Vig’s Son has fled._

Again and again, that was the only response. Demands to identify themselves and messages that they remove themselves from the _Finalizer_ ’s side all garnered the same response. Time and time again, the same response. And Vig had written of dozens of Kings of Kings, of dozens of notable ancestors. But only one that had fled.

On a hunch, he sent a single message to the craft, aware of the eyes watching him.

_Which son are you?_

A single moment passed, a breath of seconds, and then the return appeared.

_Aquin betrayed. We looked to her sons and saw who lived._

This hailer was the younger son. This hailer was the one who fled the betrayal of a brother, the one who sought revenge for his mother’s death.

_This is General Hux. I am presiding over a trial, when it is finished I will speak to you._

There was a long pause, before the reply came.

_Vig’s Son was welcomed._

_Until you identify yourself, you are subject to treatment as a non-emergency and as a lesser concern._

_We will wait._

Unamo had that pinched look about her mouth that spoke to her concern, and Hux was not surprised when she asked, “Sir, you agree to meet with them based off of…that?”

“Whoever this is, they are making a very specific reference from a very specific foundation myth. I am willing to take the risk. Besides, the will dock in a hangar filled with trained marksmen.”

She looked only vaguely mollified, but let him retire to eat lunch before returning to the trial, secure in knowing that this new development could hold. 

 

* * *

 

After four more hours, High Command retired to a private connection, dismissing their secretaries and speaking entirely alone. This was where the decision would be made as to Phasma’s fate. And yet they looked at each other and not a word was spoken. And then Yhen heaved a sigh and said, “We cannot differ our judgment from the Supreme Leader’s.”

“Why?” asked Sen. “All evidence says that there is no singular person to blame.”

“Phasma positioned FN-2187 in a leadership role, giving him freedoms and access to information that lead him to be _able_ to lead the Resistance to us and to tell them what would destroy the base,” countered Xiu.

“But Phasma is not responsible for his initial conditioning,” argued Hux. “She only ever oversaw _re_ conditioning which FN-2187 never received. If he was going to break conditioning and bring the Resistance, that flaw would have been in place before his commission.”

“Why can we not differ our judgment, Yhen?” asked Delan evenly.

“Things are…dangerous now,” said Yhen. “I keep an ear to the ground, I read news reports, I keep abreast of what the populace thinks. Right now, they know we are holding trial of one accused of allowing the deaths on Starkiller. If they know Leader Snoke suggested she be punished for treason and recommends death and we say anything else, then it is a split in the government. They lean on our side now, even the fund is our idea, not his, and if we split ourselves from him, we may just fall to civil war.”

“All because he has yet to address the nation,” murmured Sen.

“But we cannot just sentence someone to death as a symbol,” said Hux. “That is a dangerous road to go down.”

“Then what are we to do?” demanded Xiu. “If we cannot sentence her to death but we must sentence her to death, where are we left?”

Delan’s eyes were closed, her forefinger and thumb worrying at her lip as she did when she was thinking deeply, and finally she said, “We can refer her. Declare that we have contrasting beliefs, that no consensus could be made. Declare that we offer her up to Supreme Leader’s judgment, give him the transcripts and testimony.”

“He will simply sentence her to death, he was clear about that before,” Sen argued. “And there is no reason for her to assume full blame!”

“What else can we do, Sen? If we grant mercy, we risk our nation falling to civil war!”

“But to defer is to sentence her to death anyway!”

“We cannot sacrifice lives for the sake of a symbol,” agreed Hux. “The moment we start killing anyone to make an example or to put all the blame on one person, then it becomes too easy to start sentencing people to death simply to exonerate ourselves of any wrong.”

“I would like to think we are above that, Hux,” said Yhen.

“But can you _guarantee_ it?”

“Right now our only option is to defer to Leader Snoke,” insisted Delan. “Clearly we cannot agree whether she should live or die, let alone what her punishment should be.”

“She lowered the shields! The blame is clear!” said Xiu, looking as if he wanted to throw up his hands.

“I personally gave her blanket permission to do what she thought best!” said Hux, just as loudly. “I will not let someone else die for what guilt is mine!”

“You did not tell her to do something like that, I hope!”

“It simply means that there is no one person that can be blamed!” added Sen, raising his voice to be heard.

“ _Alright!_ ” snapped Delan, cutting them off. “We are not a forum for screaming matches!”

“If we defer,” said Yhen, his voice slow in the sudden quiet, “then it gives Snoke the chance to address the populace, to acknowledge that we could not agree whether or not a single person is to blame. He could speak to the loss of life, and hopefully that would heal this divide.”

“And if you are so certain that she bears no blame, then surely Leader Snoke would see that too,” said Xiu, making Sen clench his teeth.

“Are we in agreement?” asked Delan. “We will defer to Leader Snoke, pass all the court documents onto him, and allow him to pass judgment. We will publically declare that we trust him and do all we can on our part to keep our nation from falling to war. That is the last thing we need.”

With agreement, they each brought their secretaries back in, and reconnected with Phasma and her counsel and doctor. “Iskra Phasma, Lieutenant Yildiz Orrig has argued your case to High Command, and we have discussed,” said Xiu. “Generals Zora Delan, Brendol Hux Junior, Itri Sen, Shihab Yhen and I, Astraphel Xiu, have agreed to defer judgment to the Supreme Leader Snoke himself. The transcripts of this trial will be forwarded, and you will remain in medical custody until such a time as the Supreme Leader hands down his judgment. Do you understand our judgment?”

“I understand your judgment,” said Phasma, looking infinitely more tired than when they had begun, slumping forward and her hands trembling. Her physician looked tense as well, likely ready to get her back into medical care.

“Before my fellow Generals and before the accused, I declare this trial finished and sentencing deferred,” intoned Xiu, and with that they could each disconnect, letting Phasma be taken back into medical custody and letting the Generals each back to their duties. 

 

* * *

 

The unmarked vessel left no noticeable trace, there were no numbers to be run on it and even when it landed it called no recognition in the eyes of anyone who saw it. Snipers were positioned in nooks and crannies in the top corners of the room, and every officer in the hangar had a hand on their blaster, all there to protect their General, who had come to meet with this ship that messaged only cryptic messages demanding to meet with him.

Hux, for his part, stood in the appearance of ease, he could not appear nervous or uncertain in front of anyone. He simply watched this unknowable ship land, listened to its engines quiet, waited for the gangway to lower, for whoever was hailing with Vig’s Histories to emerge.

When the gangway did lower, immediately everyone seemed to grow _more_ at attention, very nearly leaning forward. And they all reared back to see who appeared before them. For Khee Ren was the first out of the ship, her lance strapped against her back, and followed by Obsi Ren, his cleaver sword the width of his hips and slung carelessly over his shoulder.

“Lady Ren,” greeted Hux, barely aware he was saying it.

“We must meet with you, General,” she said, her vocoder making her voice impossible to read. “As soon as possible, and in complete privacy. Are Kylo’s rooms occupied?”

“No, they are not.” He didn’t understand what was happening. Khee and Obsi Ren here, hailing him specifically, citing a history so long forgotten and possibly never true so as to get his attention. Were the Knights not supposed to all be at Snoke’s side?

Obsi Ren’s helmet tilted, as though in thought, before he nodded, the movement slow, and let the cleaver sword fall from his shoulder, hitting the metal ground with a clang that echoed in the shocked silent hangar. There was a rustle, and another Knight, Penninah if the curled swords at her hips were right, darted out to join the first two, while another three emerged more slowly, Quen Tor, Tem, and Nova.

A breath was drawn in. Six of the seven Knights of Ren were aboard. They all remembered well what one was like, let alone _two_ and now there were six.

“Lead the way, General,” Obsi intoned, voice measured and slow, made deeper by his helmet than any human could speak.

Hux would not look nervous, or ill at ease. Not in front of the Knights, and not in front of his crew. He was hesitant to turn his back to them while Tem carried that blaster that looked cobbled together and yet deadly and Nova still carried her trident points upwards, but he would not distrust them. So, he led them onwards, to Kylo’s vacated quarters, which he had not entered since before Starkiller.

As they walked, he tried not to speed up at the feeling of them at his back. He didn’t know why they were here or why they wanted to meet with him and why it had to be in complete privacy. He had a sudden wild thought that once alone they would kill him, but he dismissed it almost immediately. Kill him for what?

All too soon they arrived at what had been Kylo’s rooms. Keying in, he allowed the Knights to enter before him, both deferent and just needing space to take that last deep breath before he entered as well. He hadn’t been to Kylo’s rooms in so long, and his heart twisted to enter them again, not knowing the fate of his lover.

He didn’t have much time to feel that way, though, as Khee Ren stepped forward and pulled off her helmet as she did. Hux actually reared back, startled so completely by it that he actually took a step backwards to see it. She was painfully young, her features small and yet dominated by hazel eyes, sandy blonde hair fanning away from her pallid face like a star’s corona. She looked as though she was any young woman freshly independent from her parents, looked as though she should be studying at a university or be in trade school, be anything but a Knight of Ren.

“You protect those beneath you, I’ve seen it,” she was saying, making Hux blink back to the present. “You came to lecture me for five minutes when a piece of glass struck one of your officers. If we are beneath you, will you protect us?”

“I…what?” managed Hux, blinking stupidly.

“We have our reputation, but you never flinched from it, you walked into what many would call the beast’s own den to lecture it, because that officer belonged to you. If we belong to you, would you do the same?”

“Lady Ren, what…?” He took a breath and started over. A question for a question. “Why did you hail me with Vig’s Histories?”

“Because Kylo never shared from you any history of a father’s betrayal,” intoned Tem, setting down his weapon and removing his own helmet, revealing a man with handsome blocky features and matted curls above thick brows and dark eyes. “Khee brought us here because you did not falter to defend those who belong to you. She saw it, she said, and we followed her. Because if we belong to you and if Kylo belongs to you, then you would go without fear into the den of the beast.”

Four still had their helmets on, but this was shockingly overwhelming. He tried not to stare so as not to cause offense, but he couldn’t help it. And then Tem’s words really sank in and he turned to Khee, blinking to see her not as a destructive force but as a too-young woman the age of the fresh graduates from the Academy.

“You talked them into coming with you?” he asked slowly, not certain in anything he was saying.

“Yes,” she confirmed solemnly. “We saw what happened to Kylo, and it’s not right. And I remembered you, from when Kylo took me with him here.”

“What is happening with Kylo?” that he didn’t need to stop and think to ask. He had countless reservations about the Trial of the Senses, and even as that prophecy burned in his spine he feared.

“He just…it was so slow, he started not reacting,” murmured another Knight. Nova, her voice garbled and entirely synthetic through her vocoder. “At first we didn’t notice, then he just…when they were all gone, all his senses, he…”

“What is happening with Kylo?” he repeated, voice now sure. “If none of you will tell me–”

“It’s just that there aren’t words, General. Or at least I don’t have them. What happened to Kylo wasn’t like a coma. You can tell when he’s awake and when he’s asleep, but he can’t perceive anything, so it’s almost like he isn’t there at all.”

“He couldn’t recognize when there was food and drink right in front of him, he didn’t react when Snoke fed him, it…it just wasn’t right. Kylo shouldn’t ever be so helpless. Not him,” murmured Obsi, his voice rumbling into Hux’s bones.

“Our master said it was necessary,” added Peninnah. “But when we saw Kylo as he was…”

A sudden fully formed idea slid into his mind, an experience that flew as soon as he understood it, no longer crowding his mind. Kylo in some horrible torpor, like a puppet left to collapse where it would. It was not like he was unconscious, not like a coma at all, exactly as Nova had said. This was something different, something _wrong_. This was worse than sensory deprivation. It wasn’t quite torture in the traditional sense, but it was certainly on par with it.

He felt ill when it was gone, not for its coming or going but for what it _was._ No wonder the six others had fled to their sole hope after seeing it. He looked up at the Knights, somewhere he had grown unsteady and had to lean on the wall, doubled over. Standing upright again, he saw in Tem and Khee’s faces desperate hope that he understood, desperate hope that he would protect them, oppose what had been prescribed to them, oppose what had stolen Kylo from them. Stolen Kylo from _him._

And as he breathed through the sick feeling, breathed to be able to think, he remembered a myth of the J’leans. Their species, the single sentient species on Yvinia, the Aisak, had nearly hollow bones and due to that were incredibly buoyant in water. In the J’lean Empire, the ocean was given a god where the land never was because of its power over them; the ocean they could not enter and how long it took to die if a ship sank (leagues of water and nothing to drink, the old sailor’s fear). There was a myth of drowned souls coming up to ships and asking for a ladle, and pouring in the ocean bit by bit until the ship sank and all those onboard joined them in death.

This felt a bit like handing over a ladle.

Taking a breath he said, addressing Khee as the leader, “Lady Ren, I can’t trust you.”

“But–” she protested.

“You’re still Snoke’s apprentices. You’ve had him in your heads since you were infants, how can I trust that you’ve blocked him out now? And if you show me with the Force, how can I tell that it’s true or not? I’m not Force sensitive. I want to trust you, but I can’t.”

“You were presiding over a trial, that was why you could not meet us immediately,” said Tem. “You go into a trial already biased. How do they convince you one way or another?”

“The counsel presents the case of their client, evidence and testimonies are presented. They have the burden of proof. They have to prove what they say is true.”

“If we can prove that we need your protection, will you do so?”

Hux looked between Khee and Tem, and to the four Knights behind them, and slowly inclined his head and said, “If you can prove you need my protection, then I do not see why I would not grant it.”

As one, all six Knights of Ren went down to medical and entered themselves into care. The doctors were all slightly dazed, but in moments, their eyes went wide and they shoved Hux out of the room, bundling the six back into care. It took an hour before Dr. Lahar Fatiaki, the doctor who tended to Kylo emerged, looking harrowed.

“You did the right thing bringing the Knights to us, General,” he said, voice grave. “I don’t know how you convinced them.”

“What exactly is wrong with them, Dr. Fatiaki?” asked Hux, trying for calm.

Dr. Fatiaki gave a long, heavy sigh and shook his head, saying, “What _isn’t_ wrong with them? They’re all malnourished, three of them are suffering severe dehydration, and one of them has an old festering wound that needed rather severe cleansing lest she go into septic shock. If these are the trusted apprentices of the Supreme Leader, I’m beginning to think those rumors that he doesn’t care are true.”

“May I see them?”

“Yes, they’ve been asking for you since they were settled.”

Indeed, the six were gathered in one room, three of them inspecting the IVs that provided them nutrients and hydration with great curiosity. One woman with a bandaged torso kept poking at it, gently, as though anticipating it to hurt at the touch. And all of them had the shadows of muscles that wanted to be there, if not for the fact that they were all obviously starved. Kylo hadn’t looked as bad as this, and Hux felt ill.

“General!” greeted Khee when he entered the room. “I didn’t know you could get liquids without drinking.”

“It’s used only for the direst of cases,” he said, folding his hands behind him. “You were dehydrated enough that the doctors feared severe consequences. Why exactly did you allow yourselves to come here?”

“So you would believe us,” said one of the men softly. It must be Obsi, with a face of broad warm features made cold as he looked to where the fluids were being passed to his body. “Kylo was the first apprentice. He was always allowed the most, but also punished the most.”

“General, do you believe us now?” asked one of the women, her cheekbones sharp and her eyes just as sharp, sparkling intelligence pinning down all she laid her eyes on. “We have endured the humiliation of examination, of being seen, what more would you have us do before you believe us?”

Hux looked between the six. None looked comfortable, all clearly hated being seen just as much as Kylo had hated being seen. And yet they all stared evenly at him, waiting to see what he would say. They had suffered enough to clearly and visually terrify doctors upon seeing the beginnings of it, and no matter what had prompted it, they deserved recovery. He had spent so long now with traitorous thoughts, with wondering if Snoke even cared. He had deferred judgment of Phasma to him to keep the nation from falling to civil war. But Snoke’s apprentices, the protectors of the nation, the ones closest to him had immediately been dragged into medical care almost as soon as any doctor laid eyes on them.

He wanted to wrench his mind away from the idea, tear it away and think of anything else, berate himself from thinking at all, but still the thought whispered forth. Maybe it was for the better if the First Order fell to a civil war to depose Snoke if this was what was happening.

“I believe you,” he finally said. “And I will protect you.”

Khee fell back at that, back into her bed looking suddenly and completely exhausted. Of the women, the one with the bandage nodded and immediately fell unconscious, and the other closed her eyes, looking no different than when she had been staring at him. Tem near smiled, Obsi just folded his hands and looked no different, and the last, the man who must be Quen Tor, tilted his head a moment before turning his gaze onto his fellow Knights, as though Hux had not spoken.

And then, with no warning, with no pressure or headache, a voice spoke in his mind, startling him. _You have done us a great service,_ it said.

_You are Quen Tor Ren,_ Hux thought. _Kylo mentioned you. You speak neither Standard nor Common Tongue._

_Precisely. Communication in the mind solves that problem, and I have become rather stealthy as a result. You were startled, you couldn’t feel me. You are our protector now and you are Kylo’s beloved. I will announce my presence to you._

Hux blinked. This was not how he had expected his day to go. _Kylo mentioned once that Snoke sets you six against each other._

_That is correct. These five are my allies just as often as they are my rivals._

_Then why did you follow Khee here?_

There was a long stretch of silence, and Hux did not know whether Quen Tor was going to say anything, and then suddenly his voice returned, saying, _We followed Khee here because we all love Kylo. At any day we might respect or detest one another, but Kylo we have in common. Khee simply knew you, knew a way to help him. She gathered us and told us she knew how to help him. It is for that reason alone we all came._

Hux looked between them all and said, “None of you will be able to leave until Dr. Fatiaki allows it. He treated Kylo at the beginning of his treatment for radiation poisoning, he will not be intimidated by you. That said, I have a ship to attend to, I will let you rest.”

“General,” called Obsi, catching Hux’s attention. “It is important that you know this. When we left, Kylo was no longer receiving treatment.”

Ice crawled into his very being, freezing his heart shut. All he could do was nod, and walk away, walk back to his duties, walk to his crew to tell them that the Knights of Ren were in medical care and would be remaining on the ship for the foreseeable future.

He could start feeling later. 

 

* * *

 

It was the next day, early in the morning, when he finally fell apart. He had six Knights advocating _civil war,_ the very thing he let Phasma’s judgment be deferred about so as to spare the order, he had sworn to protect six Knights who would tear the nation apart to protect Kylo and he had to keep reminding himself that tearing apart the First Order was generally not a good idea.

They said anxiety was common in Space Children, deep desires for order and logic and things to go right. It all stemmed, they said, from growing up in exile and in war. If a child was playing in the morning and that evening their playmate was dead, the survivor grew desperately wanting order and needing a strict routine so things couldn’t fall apart, so people couldn’t get hurt just so long as everyone followed what they were supposed to do.

Ordinarily, Hux detested and distrusted the idea that his generation was just a psychological experiment, resented the idea that his childhood could be picked apart by anyone, that they could assume to know him just because of the conditions he grew up in. But right now, when the idea of the First Order falling apart because its leader was just as cruel as he had feared, sent panic sparking through his heart, stealing his breath, he couldn’t find himself disagreeing with that diagnosis of his generation.

He couldn’t breathe, he wasn’t getting oxygen, he was too busy caught up in the swirling black hole of his thoughts, draining all light and bending reality so the wildest thoughts felt possible. If he opposed Snoke, if he supported the Knights, if he sent the medical records of the Knights to High Command and forced them to look at what those closest to Snoke were dealing with, if he took the side of opposition to the Order, to the nation that he _loved,_ then it would fall apart, war would be inevitable and people would die by the thousands at _least_ and the Resistance would just love to see them fallen and Organa would talk the Senate into sending out the fleet and that would be that, the Order would be gone forever. It would cause chaos it would throw people who had no business being on the wrong end of a blaster there _children would die again he saw children die when he was just a teenager he couldn’t see it again it would happen if he turned on Snoke civil war would destroy everything–_

Feet on the floor, ground yourself, try and breathe for a count of two, start small. Two in, hold for two, two out, repeat until he could try for a count of four. And then it all fell apart because Obsi Ren’s dark news came to mind. Kylo wasn’t receiving treatment, Kylo was slowly dying he couldn’t survive the length of a civil war but if he wouldn’t survive anyway and oh his feet weren’t on the floor anymore, and he now suddenly felt safer when he wasn’t breathing, as long as he held his breath he felt like he could maybe have some control.

There was suddenly the mental equivalent of a polite knock at the door before Quen Tor Ren’s voice came cutting through the haze of panic. _You must breathe if you want to be able to do anything, General. Breathe in. Good. Keep breathing, counts of two, you know how to do this._

It took a long time before Hux was calm, and even still his limbs felt weak. And then he thought, genuinely baffled, _Why did you help me?_

_Because I am the one who would not add pressure to your head. We talked about it, we couldn’t give you a headache on top of such panic._

_You talked about it?_

_Do you think we would not keep you in mind? You are Kylo’s beloved, why would we not keep track of where you are, how you are? We all felt your anxiety, we all agreed I would be best for this moment._

Kylo did that, he had said so. It was almost reassuring, that just as Kylo kept him at the edge of his mind, the knights who loved Kylo did the same. And yet he wasn’t sure he actually actively _liked_ it.

It took a long moment before Quen Tor spoke again, his voice measured, something as close to soothing as any Knight could speak, _Come down and speak to us, General. We would talk to you._

_After duty._

He still felt a little shaky, but he didn’t let it interrupt his duty, nor did he let his crew see what panic he had had. Sergeant Delicu had a child she was supporting, how many else had children? How many of their children would die in civil war? How many would be orphaned? Dev Furcht was half an orphan now, he remembered wildly. Dismissing every last one of those thoughts as best he could, he gave Mitaka enough significant glances that the man actually did make use of the chair, and at the end of shift he didn’t look half so stiff.

Shifts were dull, but they had their duties and no one would visibly relax or do half a good job even if they were simply patrolling borders. And that helped steady Hux as he turned his feet towards medical. There was a sliver of time at the end of one shift and the beginning of the next that stood as visiting hours, but Hux as General was not beholden to them.

The six Knights had a private room, nothing else would be allowed, nor would they stand for anything else, and when he entered, all six turned to him. They were just like Kylo, none of them could control their expressions, too used to being behind masks, and the fact that he could perhaps read them eased him a moment. “You wanted to talk to me?” he prompted.

“They keep putting bacta on my side,” said the woman with the injury. “They say I was in danger of sepsis.”

“Bacta will help that, Lady Ren.” She still didn’t look very pleased by it. “That cannot be what you called me here for.”

“No,” agreed Obsi, “it was not. We all felt your terror this morning. You fear a return of the early days, before settling rights. You fear children and civilians being caught in the crossfire of a civil war.”

“Any leader of any nation fears civil war.”

“But you lived as a child through war time, on the front lines too. You fear it more than most leaders.”

_You saw it happen,_ murmured Quen Tor, hastily knocking on his mind before speaking. _You were in classes, they kept trying to keep life normal for you children, and the alarm sounded, you were under attack. They kept the children and civilians spread out so that there was no single vulnerable ship. And when the alarm sounded, you teenagers were to collect the younger children, bring them down to the hold, where they could be safe. You saw civilian families, you saw children being sucked to their deaths in space when one of Manon’s ships managed to land a good hit. Just the once, but it scarred you._

“I would very much appreciate it if you got out of my head,” snapped Hux, clenching his hands to keep them from shaking at the memory.

_Apologies, General. My role is often to dredge up memories. It can be difficult to abandon a role._

“Kylo often spoke of you to us,” said the other woman. “He said you were dutiful and honorable. That you studied ancient times, he passed on much of what you told him to us, and that you took your studies and applied them to the First Order. You love your nation, and love it dearly.”

“You don’t want civil war,” agreed Khee. “You just want Kylo safe. That is all we want too. We are not advocating the destruction of this nation. But you will do whatever it takes to protect that which is yours.”

“We allied together only to protect Kylo,” added Tem.  “But we need your protection. We need your promise that if we cannot manage it that you will kill us.”

Hux reared back to hear it, and the bandaged woman said, “General, I don’t think you understand. Snoke has been with us since before we had conscious thought. He was a parent to us, a caretaker, a friend. It was only later that he became our master. He has been with us from the start, who we are is bound up in him. But Kylo is dearer to us than Snoke, and after seeing what was done to him, do you understand what we are doing? What it means?”

“Lady Ren, I can’t say it,” said Hux, voice soft because this was _treason._ “If I say it, it is treason.”

“We would kill Snoke for the sake of Kylo,” said the sharp eyed woman. “We would kill half of our own beings for the sake of Kylo. We apologize if we thought you would do the same.”

“Why would you need me to kill you, though?”

“Because if we cannot kill him, General, then the punishment we would receive would be far worse than death. You at least would make it clean, make it quick. You would shoot us in the head, we wouldn’t even feel it. If we fail in this endeavor, Snoke would not grant us death.”

“Nova is right,” agreed Khee. So the bandaged one was Penninah. “General, we are not asking for you to make those fears of yours true. We would simply ask that you let us try.”

Hux looked between the six, and saw in the shadows of their mistreated bodies hope. They hoped he would agree to let them take on this attempt, to agree to kill them if it went wrong. They just needed the promise of a clean, quick death as a failsafe to try and kill the one who made up much of their own self-identity all for love of Kylo.

Kylo, who was stuck in that awful torpor, Kylo who was receiving no treatment, Kylo who had listened to the ancient cultures he studied, Kylo who had given him a new name tied to neither his rank nor his father, Kylo who had touched him like he was something beautiful worth keeping, like he was something precious and beloved.

“I’ll protect you,” he said to the Knights. “And I’ll do what I can to protect Kylo.”

“So you…you’ll join us in this?” asked Tem, blinking in surprise.

“I will do what is necessary to protect Kylo, to keep him alive and get him back into treatment. If that includes what you are attempting, then…then so be it.”

Tem leaned forward as much as he was able, peering closely at Hux, and with a gesture Hux felt the tug at him to move closer. It was like dragging about Kylo did but with more respect. He did step forward until he was at the foot of Tem Ren’s bed, whereupon the Knight scanned his face and finally nodded approval, saying, “You’ve got long eyelashes.” Hux, for his part, resisted the urge to blink in surprise, simply staring him down as the man nodded decisively. “That’s a good sign.”

“Physiognomy is a dead pseudoscience that was designed to try and give meaning to the chaos of genetics,” said Hux immediately, and Nova snorted a laugh and said,

“Oh I like you.” 

 

* * *

 

It took a week before the Knights were allowed to leave medical care, and even then Dr. Fatiaki didn’t look happy about it. They were all still malnourished, but at least they weren’t on the edge of sepsis or collapse anymore. Rooms were found, and they followed Hux just about everywhere he went. Masked and armed, he couldn’t blame his crew for being mildly terrified. There was no Knight that was more dangerous than another, but Nova’s trident and net and Obsi’s cleaver sword seemed to be the two weapons people shied away from the most. That wasn’t to say that the others weren’t feared; Tem was evidently the best shot on the entire _Finalizer,_ able to hit an insect off someone’s neck without hurting them, Penninah had two swords of metal so tempered they fluttered as she swung them, Khee’s electric lance and her screaming visions were well remembered, and Quen Tor was blindingly terrifying because _no one knew what his weapon was._ It looked as if he didn’t carry one, and no one was at ease with that fact.

Hux was less unnerved than his crew, partly because he was their protector now and partly because he had heard Khee terrified to be meditating all that time ago, heard Kylo calm her down and reassure her. That interaction had broken much of the terror surrounding the Knights for him. If he ended up looking impressive to his crew as a result, then that was just an upside.

There was no Knight with him at the moment, sitting at his desk and doing the paperwork his job demanded. But he should have known it wouldn’t last, Lady Khee Ren entering without so much as a knock. “You know the door is supposed to stay locked,” said Hux flatly. Khee didn’t react but that didn’t really mean much.

“What are you working on?” she asked, removing her helmet and setting it on his desk.

“This is the first report of the fund for Starkiller’s widows and widowers,” he said, trying not to let his voice be as desolate as the subject discussed. “Numbers of applicants, who will receive how much funds and when, that sort of thing.”

“If it’s any consolation,” said Khee, “you managed to avoid the future I saw for Starkiller. I don’t know how, but you did.”

“What difference was there? It blew up either way.” Khee settled into a chair, a leg folded beneath her as she regarded him.

“Well, in the vision I had, you destroyed the Hosnian System and Kylo committed patricide. He nearly died of his wounds, particularly one of a wookie bowcaster to the side. You were stripped of at least half your honors and were demoted and dismissed from High Command and ended up exactly where your father is at the Academy. You didn’t teach, but you helped run it. The children made fun of you when they thought you couldn’t hear.

“Eventually the Resistance defeated the Order and plucked you up from the Academy and put you to death after a show trial, really they just dragged you out in front of the remainder of the Republic to spit on you before they killed you. Snoke was killed by the scavenger and Luke Skywalker, Kylo was killed in the process and us Knights were sentenced to prison for the rest of our lives in solitary confinement.

“Quen Tor committed suicide, they didn’t really care enough to stop him, and Obsi’s guards were bribed and an assassin got in to kill him. The rest of us only knew about it because of the Force and our communications through it and when the guards found out they fitted us with Force resisting anklets and we lived out the rest of our lives in total solitude. I got to read the statements of death of all the others, and Nova’s last words were ‘Kylo was the lucky one, always has been. He got to die.’”

That was a lot to take in. Hux blinked and finally managed, “That is an incredibly specific future.”

“I saw its entirety only when you avoided it.”

“And what about now? What future do you see?”

“None just yet,” she said, before an almost vicious smile crossed her face, as if she was just starting to figure out that baring her teeth and smiling were different. “And isn’t that exciting?”

“Not exactly, Lady Ren.”

She tilted her head, smile sliding away as she peered closely at him before she said, “When you avoided that future, I fainted. Snoke punished me for it, fainting for no reason that he could tell. I had been keeping the stress of knowing the destruction of a whole star system was coming. We Knights would have all felt its destruction, General, felt every single life snuffing out. That’s why no one can play dead with us, we can feel death. There came a tipping point, and you fell on the other side of the vision I saw. Instead of fainting for feeling trillions of lives destroyed, I fainted for feeling trillions of lives continuing. Quite a strange feeling, really. No one else felt it, because they didn’t see and feel futures where they had died.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you feel that it never fired to be something to be ashamed of. Starkiller and all its operations were entrusted to you alone, that it never fulfilled its function feels like a failure to you. Even in the face of your nation divided over whether or not it should ever have been built you feel as though you failed expectations. General, if it _had_ fired, it would have hurt every Force user in the galaxy. It would have hurt Kylo. He would feel every death, he would feel their terror, the moment their lives ended. He would have perished a trillion times over, General. Do not feel ashamed that you spared him.”

Hux looked at her, this too young Knight who screamed with visions and gathered those who were her rivals as often as her allies and brought them to him because she had known he would do what he could to help Kylo, even if it meant inciting civil war. Her hazel eyes dominated her face, to the point where the tense line of her mouth was a second thought, as if she were in physical pain. The fact that she let him _see_ her face was not lost on him, the Knights said it was humiliation to be seen, even in the depths of a drugged haze Kylo had said he hated being seen. And yet they each trusted him enough that when alone they removed their helmets around him.

“Lady Ren,” he finally said, “I said I would help you. And I mean to stand by that. But why did you not go to any other General?”

“Because they do not love Kylo. They have no reason to help him.”

“Lady Ren, you would be fleeing clear abuse, if you went to any doctor on any ship they would insist you be taken into their care as quickly as Dr. Fatiaki did. You could have gone to General Sen and proven to him just how mistreated you are just as easily.”

“Oh General,” she said, baring her teeth and shifting it into something closer to a smile. “The nation would not fall in line behind General Sen. He is a fine General, yes, he has led the nation well and plenty love him. But he is not you. You are the youngest on High Command, people love you. You are handsome, a fine leader, people are beginning to hear you are a scholar, if you oppose Snoke, you would never want for followers.”

“You chose me because the nation wouldn’t vilify me?”

“No, General. We chose you because you would make a fine Supreme Leader.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's hardly any Old Barbed Wire for a Stormtrooper to be Hanging On, after all.
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://starkilleraflame.tumblr.com/)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a long time in coming, wasn't it?

It seemed the Knights would not be united on any front but this. They still fought viciously with one another, training halls completely abandoned when two Knights started facing off with one another, hallways quickly vacated when they started hissing at each other, but they were completely united in the sole idea that they would kill Snoke for the sake of Kylo and install Hux in Snoke’s place. “You are our protector,” they insisted. “It’s only right that you be made Supreme Leader.”

It apparently didn’t matter that he did not especially aspire to _be_ the Supreme Leader, not when that title was already fraught with maltreatment of those under his protection and disregard for one’s own nation. He loved his nation, and as time went on, it became clearer and clearer that the Supreme Leader didn’t, and he didn’t want to take on that role.

“Why are you so insistent about this?” he asked Tem once, looking up from his work at the Knight that had decided to settle in his office, watching him work intently.

“Snoke was the one we trusted before our own parents, he was the center of our lives, the only one we could trust,” said Tem, already understanding what he was talking about. “He gave us purpose, gave us a place where we could be safe, a place we could protect. Now he’s broken that trust by what he did to Kylo. And now you’ve given us a place to be safe, we can trust you, do you not take his place in all things?”

“Lord Ren, I don’t _want_ to be Supreme Leader.”

“But someone has to be. Why not you?”

Hux took a breath and said, “The reasons you turned on him would become public. Proof that he doesn’t care about the nation, proof that he doesn’t care about those closest to him, that he’s only using you and the Order for his own gain.”

“And we would have you in charge. You care deeply about the nation.”

“But it would be _you_ putting me in charge. Whether or not you turned against him, you are still associated with him to most people. Anyone you name immediately is under the same suspicion he is.”

Tem leaned forward, eyes searching his face. Apparently despite what Hux said this Knight believed in physiognomy or at least its kin and kept searching for answers in Hux’s own features. “Then what would you have happen? Khee told you our plan and you tell us no. But you don’t tell us what to do in its place.”

“I’m not trying to order you into anything, I am not taking the place of Snoke. Not in ordering you, not politically.”

“But someone must. Who would you suggest?”

“Lord Ren, you and your fellow Knights are still receiving medical care, Lady Peninnah nearly went into septic shock. And that was at the hands of the Supreme Leader. Kylo is…” Nova had been right, there were no words for what Kylo was going through. “It was at the hands of the Supreme Leader. That title needs to end.”

“But the Order needs him. If there is no Supreme Leader, there is no Order.”

There was, in Tem’s voice, a faint echo of the panic that had taken hold of Hux not too long before. The Knights all seemed rather removed from the idea of the Order, all calm at the idea of killing Snoke, and he wondered why Tem would be at all distressed at the idea that he wouldn’t take Snoke’s place.

“That…is not actually entirely true,” said Hux slowly. “He was given the title after the wars were done, he was a native of the Western Crescent and led High Command, helped us win. The First Order existed before him and it can exist beyond him.”

“But you fear the collapse.”

“I fear civil war,” he corrected, somewhat tersely. “I lived through the wars, I saw children get caught in the cross fire, I never want that to happen again.”

“So did I,” snapped Tem, before he realized what he said, a flare of something at the back of his eyes, behind the expressive impassiveness all the Knights seemed to have, expressions and yet no substance to them.

“You…you were born in the Order?” Tem said nothing, simply collected his helmet and left. Hux in turn, braced himself to hear of a room damaged by blaster fire and furrowed his brow. He supposed the chances weren’t impossible, but he had grown used to Kylo’s ignorance at parts of First Order culture, grown used to the fact that he had immigrated into the Order and brought with him a history of a childhood spent in the New Republic. It hadn’t occurred to him that any of the Knights might have been born of the Order, odd as it was to think that he hadn’t thought of it.

Had any other Knights been born in the Order? Was that why they were so insistent that he take Snoke’s place?

* * *

When he arrived to the bridge, he found Penninah masked and armed and sitting in Mitaka’s chair. When she saw him, however, she stood and walked with him as she told him, “Khee is screaming a few floors down. I think she might be having a vision.”

Hux blinked and a few around him did the same, remembering how Kylo had stopped her from screaming last time they had been onboard. “Are you not going to help?” he asked.

“No, why would I do that?” asked Penninah, genuine confusion in her voice, as if it had never occurred to her.

“Has she destroyed anything?”

Penninah shrugged, seemingly unconcerned, and turned to walk circles about the bridge, her masked head tilting to peer over the shoulders of officers, watching them work. It was clear to Hux that she expected him to do something about Khee, and to some extent, he realized that they expected him to almost take on the role that Kylo took, that because they were lovers he would do for them what Kylo did.

Khee would bear no one he might send after her, and where Kylo might soothe her, Hux couldn’t leave his post. Bracing himself to be pushed into Kylo’s position in the strange hierarchy of the Knights, he turned his attention to the bridge and to his ship once more, coughing significantly when Penninah was clearly causing distress in the officers she was observing so closely. And that might have continued, had Obsi not wandered in.

Just the day before Penninah and Obsi had fought, and every officer on the bridge knew it. Hux, for his part, had already dealt with Tem blasting holes in the hats of passing officers after he left the office, he didn’t want to deal with this. So when the staticy hissing began at each other, when Penninah flicked out one of her ribbon swords that fluttered with a deadly edge and Obsi grabbed at his cleaver sword, Hux immediately walked to stand calmly between the two and said, “I will not tolerate fighting on my bridge. If you _must_ beat each other bloody, go down to the training halls and report to medical to get patched up. If you won’t, then you won’t be fighting.”

There was a long moment of silence, and he pressed further, “I remind you that you are _guests_ on my ship.”

Penninah did not look away from Obsi as she coiled up her ribbon sword again and stalked away. Obsi in turn left, stalking away as though that had been his plan all along. Hux allowed himself a long breath of relief before he returned to his own duty, ignoring the quietly baffled looks his crew was giving him out of the corners of their eyes. There was, to them, no reason they should listen to him, and if it meant they admired him that was fine and he had no intention of telling them _why_ the Knights would heed him.

Things stayed blessedly quiet after that moment, but it did seem that no matter how huge a ship was, that was still too small for the Knights now that they were actually getting food, rest, and liquids. Dr. Fatiaki had said they were still underweight, still only recovering from malnourishment, and Hux shuddered to think what they might be like at full strength.

When his obligation on the bridge was finished, Hux went to his office and sat with his head in his hands for a long moment, knowing he’d have to make a very final decision that day. Yhen was muttering discontentedly about how Snoke had said absolutely nothing about the judgment of Phasma who still sat in medical custody, there were actual organized protests and petitions among the civilians, and someone had thrown a brick through the window of High Command’s offices. People were angry, were upset. He made a decision then and there, and waited. And then there was a knock on the inside of his mind and Quen Tor was whispering to him, _Do you want me to get the others?_

_Yes, bring them here._

In ten minutes the Knights were there, all unarmed and helmets under their arms. He stared them down before he said, “You all need to tell High Command what you told me Leader Snoke has done to you and Kylo. This nation is slowly falling apart because its head of state has completely abandoned it, and if we want to avoid it falling to pieces in a civil war that brings back the old war lords then you six will have to help me.”

“They won’t believe us,” said Nova. “It wouldn’t make sense. Six apprentices up and running away, claiming we’ve all been hurt?”

“And that is why I will be asking Dr. Fatiaki to forward your medical records. It’s easy to fake a limp, Lady Ren, but impossible to fake long periods of malnourishment and septic wounds. And for that matter, you need to stop making it worse. You have said you were allies as often as you were rivals, you might prove that. So far all you have done is beat each other bloody and terrify my troops out of their minds. At this point I am going to commit treason and if any of us are going to survive that, we need people on our side. From now on, there is no need for you to be rivals.”

All six looked discomforted, and none wanted to speak to anyone they didn’t know with their masks off, but they did agree. The next day, Hux called an urgent meeting of High Command and when all was assembled, it was Khee who spoke for the Knights. “Generals,” she greeted, “we come seeking asylum with High Command from Supreme Leader Snoke.”

“On what grounds?” managed General Delan after a long period of silence and just _gaping_ at the Knights.

“Medical neglect and abuse mostly. The doctor sent the medical records.”

They were the only medical document any of High Command had of the Knights and there it all was. Septic wounds, malnutrition, severe dehydration, exhaustion, bone density almost too low to be safe, various bones that hadn’t healed correctly, Quen Tor had been suffering from malnutrition so much that the muscles in his _heart_ were beginning to atrophy and _that_ certainly jumped out. Even Hux hadn’t read the whole of the report and though he knew the basics of it, he didn’t feel any better off than any of his fellow generals looked, all pale and horrified.

“We…we agree to your request for asylum,” managed General Sen. “You will…you will stay with General Hux until we know what to do with you.”

“If the generals could remain,” said Hux as the knights nodded and disconnected.

“Hux, what’s happening?” asked Yhen, almost helpless.

“They arrived during former Captain Phasma’s trial, apparently Kylo Ren is suffering complete sensory deprivation and is no longer receiving medical treatment. They came to find asylum and to ask for help. What is happening to Lord Kylo is apparently the final thing they could endure.”

“We deferred judgment to a man who is doing _this_ to his own apprentices,” murmured Xiu, looking generally unwell, rereading the medical records.

“If they all left, why not take him?” asked Delan.

“That is why I asked you to stay,” said Hux. “They’re advocating treason. They want to kill the Supreme Leader to rescue Lord Kylo.”

“Civil war,” said Sen, his voice ruthlessly flat.

“Yes.”

“We can’t tear the country apart for the sake of one man. Even if he is protector of the nation, his life is not worth that.”

Hux wanted to argue, wanted to say that no, Kylo’s life was worth far more than the Order, even as that thought frightened him. “But we cannot let a man who has abandoned the nation he supposedly leads in favor of _torturing_ his apprentices stay in charge,” said Yhen. “We granted the title of Supreme Leader, surely we can take it away.”

“I don’t think any of us would survive that,” said Hux quietly. “He will not relinquish power as easily as he accepted it.”

“We cannot leave him in charge,” said Delan, her voice halting as if she was only realizing what she was saying as she was saying it. “So we must have civil war.”

“This is _treason_ ,” said Xiu desperately, Sen’s face deep in his hands.

“What else can we do?” asked Yhen. “A man’s _heart_ is atrophying because of what Snoke is doing. A man who is supposedly his trusted _apprentice._ And his first apprentice is actively being tortured and denied medical treatment for radiation poisoning. Are we to say that surely the way he treats those closest to him do not show how he would treat the nation?”

“ _Civil war,_ Yhen,” Sen snapped. “The Republic already wants to tear us apart and we’ll just do it for them! It isn’t like they’ll just _disappear!_ They’ll come in when we’re falling apart and finish the job for us!”

“What would you do?” demanded Hux, his voice raising. Lately all meetings of High Command seemed to end this way. “What brilliant solution do you have that would solve this? The leader of this nation does not _care_ about it, unless Lord Kylo receives medical treatment and _soon_ he is likely to _die_ and you want to sit back and say the nation should simply make do with a leader who does such things!”

“One life is not worth the nation!”

“That one life is _indicative of the nation!_ ”

“Hux, they have been living with you for weeks now, are you sure you’re objective?” asked Xiu.

“Of course I’m not objective,” snapped Hux. “My country is being led by a man who horrifically abuses his apprentices to the point they came to seek asylum and medical care with me and begged me to kill them if Snoke came for them! That’s the man who is leading the country I swore to protect! There is no objectivity to be _had!_ ”

“They asked for death?” echoed Yhen.

“They knew I would give them a clean death, which Snoke would not grant.” Yhen looked absolutely stricken, and Xiu too. Sen was shaking his head in dumb instinctual refusal, and Delan was just staring at her boots.

“Would those who would support the Supreme Leader show themselves in a show of aye,” said Delan softly.

Silence followed her statement, everyone staring at the others in silence.

“Would those who would remove their support show themselves in a show of aye.”

“Aye,” they chorused, their voices solemn.

“Would those who would stand against Snoke with military power show themselves in a show of aye.”

“Aye,” said Hux without hesitation. He had made his peace with treason.

“Aye,” followed Delan just as fast.

“Aye,” agreed Yhen.

Sen and Xiu were left, looked tortured. Finally Xiu bowed his head and with a sigh said, “Aye.”

Sen buried his face in his hands, and moaned out from behind them, “Aye.”

“Congratulations, gentlemen,” said Delan, her mouth a grim line as she looked between them all. “We have all just become criminals.” 

* * *

Technically any crew member of any of their ships or any member of their staff could arrest them now. Technically none of them had to listen to any order. Technically a lot of things. But between the five Generals they drafted a declaration of war against Snoke referencing deeply the medical records and the Knights’ desire for a clean death should Snoke ever move to take them back. Each of them read it to their ships and staff, and no one burst in to their offices to arrest them, which was a bit of a surprise. Instead there was quiet agreement. It seemed everyone had been losing faith.

It was Delan who announced and read it to the nation, as the unofficial leader of High Command. It was broadcast to the nation from aboard her ship, so that any backlash would not kill her immediately and outright. Yhen stayed stubbornly in Benau, Hux and Sen called Xiu to help patrol the borders in this most dangerous time, and Delan spoke to the nation. On every ship, soldiers listened and watched just as in cities across the First Order civilians listened. If they were lucky, the Resistance found a way to listen in, and it might just convince them not to come sweeping in the second they were destabilized.

“There comes a time in every nation when reflection upon its founding is required,” Delan was saying. “To look back and take stock, to see whether or not we have remained true to that which we began. This time comes most often at anniversaries of founding dates, at great milestones. Not so for our First Order. Not long ago, this time of reflection was forced upon us. A distress call was sent to our flagship, asking for asylum and medical aid to those aboard the ship.

“When taken in, the abuse leveled upon those who sought protection was so severe, we will not linger over their hurt nor revel in it. They had to leave one behind, they said. One who was being denied medical treatment and who was being actively tortured. They could not get him out, and they came to beg our help.

“These beings were the Knights of Ren.” She paused a moment that it might be comprehended. “The one we named our Supreme Leader had leveled this abuse upon them since they were barely teenagers, and only when Lord Kylo Ren was denied medical treatment for radiation poisoning he sustained upon Starkiller Base could they stand it no more.

“Written upon their very bodies was the record of Snoke’s cruelty, and they feared it so much they asked for no aid to rescue Lord Kylo, only that should they fail that we give them the kindness of a clean death for fear of what Snoke might bring against them. And when they petitioned High Command for this, we agreed. High Command will no longer stand behind Snoke. We reject him as Supreme Leader, we reject him from our Nation. He has used our nation as a playing ground to revel in his own power, and it will not stand any more. We ask you, our people, to stand with us, to stand against Snoke. To lend us your support as you have thus far as we turn the military against him, and force him from our nation and if necessary, from life.

“Snoke has proven not the wise leader who helped us win against the War Lords of the past but the rotten core at the heart of this great nation we are all so proud of. We ask your support as we cut it from us, your support as we free ourselves of his games of power. Hail to the Order, may it live on despite the trial we are about to put it through. We fight in your name as we ever have and ever will.”

And it was final. There was no turning back. They had declared war on the Supreme Leader himself. It was once thing in concept, one thing to imagine and draft, but another to declare it. Now they could only sit and see what the civilians thought of all this. To drag them into civil war, into the old days parents had wished to leave far behind for their children, it was difficult to think it would be met with acceptance. And yet, to free them of a leader many had been unhappy with and many had begun to suspect didn’t care about his own nation is another.

Hux did not hide once it was pronounced. So far he hadn’t been attacked by his own crew and he didn’t expect it to suddenly begin now that the populace at large knew. He did, however, keep close eye on updates from Benau. Yhen was yet safe in the offices, no one had come to knock down the door and deliver their anger upon the one member of High Command still on any planet.

A message came to him, a single short one from Shara Kypling, it said nothing more then _Stay safe. Your friend, Shara._ And yet it meant worlds. It was the first signal of approval from a civilian, not overly but she had signed off as a friend, and not distancing herself from him meant something.

There was a knock at his mind, and Quen Tor began to speak. _I’m listening in, most people don’t know what to think yet, they’re scared mostly. It’s outright war, and it’s too close to the old ones for a lot of people. Sides will be taken eventually, but don’t stay up worrying._

Heloise Cynyr sent a message of much the same sentiment fifteen minutes later, that so far Benau was quiet, and people were scared. It was a massive thing to drop all at once, and they should wait a while before expecting to hear anything. There were parts of planets asleep, after all, and when they woke up they’d be in for a shock. It was already late evening for Hux, and while Delan was already making noise about starting to coordinate, he returned to his rooms and took out his datapad, pulling up an article he had read long before.

The Mad Emperor Yun of the Eda Dynasty had been assassinated before the mercury poisoning could do him in. Dowager Empress Sem, whether or not she had actually done the murder, had gone on to have a regency that was marked for its advancement in public works and almost unprecedented improvements in infrastructure. She had been making amends for her husband’s madness until her eldest daughter had come of age and ascended the throne.

_During this time, the line between public and private life for the royal family nearly disappeared. Letters were often compiled and sent out to the people that whatever discussions the Dowager Empress was having was a matter of public knowledge. She managed this well, there were no great scandals surrounding Dowager Empress Sem. Her brother in law did not fare so well. The Grand Prince Lansom had retreated to private estates during the height of his brother’s madness, and openly resented the Dowager Empress’ decisions to make the Imperial Family so very public. He had long been known abstractly as a poet and composer, but when those manuscripts were forced to be made public, there is a decisive shift in his work._

_All once classical poetry (that is, written of the Five Elegant Subjects of love, observations of nature, history, religion, and elaborate puns), Grand Prince Lansom began to write instead what were called Flights, bawdy verses designed to insult either a specific person or the reader generally, and long verses of erotic poetry that while not discouraged as an art form was not the abstract lovers but very clearly descriptions of his own spouse and as time went on, became more abstract but wildly explicit, describing what were considered at the time to be deviant acts. In his letters to Dowager Empress Sem, he wrote challenging messages that equated to making a deal. Lansom was saying, essentially; Stop enforcing my life be public, and I will go back to the Five Elegant Subjects._

There were excerpts of his letters, the long twisting sentences the Edan court wrote in. Very little was said plainly in the Edan court, and out of curiosity he turned to the timeline of Emperors and Empresses he had been given, and to the dates of the court poetry and found that yes, this was the start of it. Dowager Empress Sem made them public, and they made themselves incomprehensible to protect themselves.

And yet, searching for more information of the Dowager Empress, Hux felt almost understanding in the replica of the painting of Her Imperial Majesty, her eyes almost meeting his and almost nodding. Though she was never openly suspected, many believed that she had in fact killed the Mad Emperor. There were Emperors and nobles and great exalted writers who all had sought to carve their name into the edifice of time for fear they might be forgotten and Hux understood them, understood what it was to look at the stars and the vast impossibility of space and be terrified that your own life was nothing, but they had never seemed to understand him. They were racing to be remembered the longest, scrambling for glory, but Dowager Empress Sem was the only one who seemed to sit back and understand. She had freed her nation from the madman who ruled it, and made amends with that nation for the rest of her life, protecting those who she was bound to protect.

_Do you swear before the nation that your life shall be last even as it is first? That you will go calmly to the slaughter if it would save even one life under your command?_

It wasn’t all that different. 

* * *

A few days after the proclamation, Hux woke with a deep pit of dread in his stomach, a certainty that something was very wrong. He had slept perhaps an hour, but he was wide awake, his heartbeat thrumming. There was pressure just behind his ears, pressing into the Wernicke areas of his brain. He remembered this.

_You have made a grave mistake, General._ Hux startled to his feet, but there was no escaping it, he couldn’t rightly run away from his own mind. _One man and the six that follow him are no threat. I would have allowed you seven to make your run, and when you failed I might have even forgiven you._

He was envisioning walls desperately, or failing that, putting himself in a box, but Snoke’s voice stayed there, kept speaking calmly and yet perfectly aware of the terror he was instilling.

_But instead you went and turned all of High Command against me, and you campaign to turn the nation against me. You think the people will choose you over me? That you, a trembling wretch who panics and loses his breath over the idea of going back to the old wars, might instill loyalty to yourself against me, who led those people out of those dark times? All that you have now is your military, useless against one with the Force, and do you honestly and truly think the six you have on board are enough to overpower me?_

He was bleeding from his nose now, dripping to stain his shirt as it painted his mouth and chin red. There was most distinct pressure on the Wernicke areas, but it wasn’t just sound processing that had that awful compression. He had a horrible feeling he wouldn’t survive this.

_I could scrub your mind clean, leave you alive only by virtue of breath and heartbeat. I could do the same to Sen, Xiu, Yhen, and Delan, leave you all unable to walk, to speak, to even feed yourselves. What defense do you have? What ploy to save your skin?_

Hux didn’t even have the strength to form a single thought, pressed down and under by Snoke, until from some back corner of his mind, it felt like a black hole, and he was fairly certain he must have made some noise of fear, sure that this was that scrubbed clean fate. And yet it was too strong, and his consciousness slid into it, leaving him blacked out on the floor of his rooms.

It was purple flowers on a windowsill, their scent sweet like fruit and a sad lullaby. It was soil between his toes and screaming from atop a mountain, echoes coming back and back. It was drinking milk out of a bowl left by the door and taking a bag with only a loaf of bread and a slice of cheese and running without destination or reason, finding streams to cup his hands in to drink from when he got thirsty and picking berries when he got hungry. It was crouching in the bushes to jump out and terrify the passing livestock and running like mad down the wild animal paths he had memorized to escape the furious shepherd who chased him down. It was racing the predator birds and rolling down the mountainside and grabbing the rock that would stop him feet from the cliff edge, laying on his back with his feet hanging free over the edge and whistling bright popping notes to watch the burrowing creatures poke their heads up and call back. It was watching children go to school and scoffing and learning his letters from the voice inside his head, it was beating at the door with wordless screams of frustration in the wintertime, wanting wanting wanting to be out on the mountain.

He opened his eyes to find Dr. Mabuse standing over him, and Obsi standing nearby, masked and staring at him. He blinked dumbly for a moment or two, trying to figure out why he couldn’t hear the wind rattling at the windows and where his mother’s desperate pleas for him to quiet down had gone. By the time he had sorted out that no, he had really only ever lived in space and certainly not as a half feral child on a mountain, and those weren’t his memories, he missed whatever Dr. Mabuse had been saying and blinked her into focus.

“You were found passed out in your rooms six hours ago by Lord Obsi Ren, and you both have been here ever since,” she was telling him. “For some reason he’s refused to leave your side. I have been counselled by him to check for brain damage.” And a few tests later, he was told to stay in bed for at least another hour to be absolutely certain that no harm had befallen him.

And then they were alone.

“What happened?” asked Hux flatly, looking at Obsi, who removed his mask.

“Snoke was fully occupying your mind,” the Knight told him. “When we speak, we aim only to that which processes sound. When we comb through the mind, we access only where memories are stored. It is not gentle, but it is safer. Snoke was accessing and aiming at all parts of your brain, and yours cannot support it. Any longer, you very well might have died. I think that was his aim.”

“Why didn’t I then?”

“Because I took you in. I took your consciousness and hid it in mine. Where you cannot support it, we grew with it, and so I took you in and hid you.”

“How? If Snoke has been in your mind since you were infants, then you shouldn’t be able to hide me.”

“I’m sure you experienced it, but I grew up absolutely wild in the mountains. My parents didn’t know how to handle a child like me, and by the time I could be trusted not to jump off a cliff for the sheer hell of it, they didn’t wish to. Up there, I watched shepherds grease the foreheads of their livestock, and when they’d try to fight, the grease made them slide right off of each other, no matter how hard they tried. I simply greased my mind.”

Hux closed his eyes a long moment, baffled by the Knight as he so often was, before his eyes shot open and his heart jumped to pace. “Snoke threatened the others of High Command, threatened to leave us all in vegetative states.”

“What?”

“How did you miss the threat when you both were running around inside my head?”

“Oh. No…with Snoke, half of speaking to him is to listen to the color of his meaning. There was no intent behind that.”

“I don’t care about _the color of his meaning._ Go ensure that they live!”

“Do not order me, General.”

“I have done and will continue to do so, go make certain the others are alive!”

All lived, but that Snoke had fired the first volley by attacking Hux meant the war had begun. Perhaps he had realized that and didn’t actively try and make that first strike worse. It had only been a few hours, and it was already certain that Hux would be wondering and picking apart that decision not to kill the others for the rest of his life, however short that might be.

War was different from what he remembered as a child, but being in charge of it was very different from growing up in one. And this time, he had the comfort of knowing there were no children on the ships they directed towards the planet Snoke hunkered upon. Yhen finally roused from Benau and arrived on the _Finalizer_ looking rather unhappy to be on a ship again, but immediately addressed the assembled troops in an impromptu speech.

“Men and Women of the Finalizer,” he said. “I and your commanding General both thank you for standing with your nation. We recognize well that it is no easy thing we have asked, to turn on our leader and remove him from that vaulted position he has enjoyed and abused. We do not have the luxury of being alone in this fight, the Republic either amasses its own fleet to destroy us while we are weak, or awaits the chaos that they might swoop in and set up a puppet government. You all deserve to know that danger. But we do not cower in our homes and meeting halls while we send you to die, as the Republic does, we stand alongside you and will do the same battle you do. You are brave souls, and we are honored to fight by your sides.”

Ten minutes later, when entrenched in a war meeting, it was Sen who said, “The Republic Fleet is at our borders. Just sitting there and waiting.”

“Is there any indication of intent to launch an attack in the middle of this?” asked Delan.

“No. Of course they won’t answer our messages, but I have a small ship keeping eye. It’s fast, it can come report if they start inwards.”

“If we can keep from dividing our forces, then we have a chance,” said Yhen, standing beside Hux. “If we are forced to turn and fight the Republic as well…”

“I can’t imagine they want Snoke in charge any more than we do,” said Hux. “But I doubt they want us in charge either. We must be ever vigilant, they will come in to destroy us the second we are rid of him, before we might recover, force us into another war immediately.”

Xiu had been largely silent, but finally said, “We ready our crews for war and battle, but we cannot use the Stormtroopers. We have a third front to consider still.”

There came then a polite knock on Hux’s mind, absurdly delicate, and he saw Yhen stiffen beside him. And as much as he tried to communicate to Quen Tor that now was not the time, the Knight said, _Excuse me, Generals. I might have a solution to the Stormtrooper problem. Could one of you relay this to the others?_

_You shouldn’t be listening in,_ admonished Hux.

_Perhaps not. But I remember Kylo telling me of the wrong shapes of their brains, and I did try and find what he meant. General Yhen, might you relay this?_

“Generals,” said Yhen uncertainly, “Lord Quen Tor Ren is speaking to General Hux and I. He says he might have a solution to the question regarding the Stormtroopers.”

“This is a closed meeting,” said Delan.

“He doesn’t seem to care.”

“What does he suggest?” asked Sen.

The answer came to Hux and he wanted to start yelling immediately, but he waited until Yhen said in a bewildered tone, “He says to promise them decommission and liberation after the Civil War is won.”

“Liberate the Stormtroopers?” echoed Xiu. “Just let them wander off?”

“Lord Ren, that is…Lord Kylo told me once the shapes of their minds are wrong, like bubbles in glass,” said Hux. “Leaving aside every _other_ issue, could they honestly fend for themselves?”

“Lord Ren says that those holes are filling,” relayed Yhen. “It has been long enough since any of them saw reeducation that the conditioning is starting to fade, faster in some than others. They all know by now there is no place for them now, we have not used them as usual because of the review, and they have all figured out by now that it is a review happening.”

_Besides, General,_ added Quen Tor, and Hux knew no one else heard this, _he who must not be named has become a folk hero now among your ‘Troopers. I don’t think you want anyone who admires the one who got thousands of their own comrades killed armed and trained under your command._

“The…FN-2187,” said Hux slowly, a memory tugged up by Quen Tor who he knew was being so delicate because of Snoke’s attack. Usually he’d bristle at being treated so carefully, but not with the memory still so fresh. “He never saw reeducation in his life. After the first conditioning, once he was commissioned…there was only ever passive reinforcement.”

Delan let loose a particularly precise flow of black oaths before she said, “Then that’s it. What choice to we have? We’ve lost our foot army.”

_Not lost,_ insisted Quen Tor. _They’ll fight for decommission and liberation, tell them!_

“Lord Ren insists that they aren’t lost,” relayed Yhen. “That they will fight if we promise liberation.”

“Let us discuss, Lord Ren,” said Sen. “I’m sure you can find out our decision.”

Reluctantly, the Knight left them to discuss. It took a whole two hours of debate, but they separated with no other option. The Stormtroopers would not fight unless given a reason, and the only reason they _could_ give was liberation. They would not fight for a country they didn’t know, they would not fight against a Supreme Leader who, far as they were concerned, had done nothing new, and this was, it was decided, the only way to inspire any loyalty to High Command’s banner.

“When did Lord Kylo Ren tell you about the wrong shape of the minds of the Stormtroopers?” asked Yhen, when they had disconnected.

“There was a question about a sudden increase in reeducation, he searched through their minds,” said Hux. He didn’t say Kylo had only done it because he had been overwhelmed, he didn’t say Kylo had sought through their minds while in his rooms. He was already considered biased, if it came out what exactly his relation to Kylo was, it would not lend him any credibility. 

* * *

When the Stormtroopers were told they would be decommissioned following victory in this war against Snoke, it took exactly one day for them to become a perfectly oiled machine of war, spoiling to get to the fight that they might be free. They now looked officers in the eye, many didn’t wear helmets unless it was absolutely required, they loudly referred to each other with nicknames instead of numbers, and dared anyone to force them to stop. It was inevitable, Yhen said, that they should be so boisterous.

The battle strategy, best they had it, when their opponent could overwhelm the minds of anyone, was to just send down multiple battalions towards where the Knights directed all at once. Snoke couldn’t possibly take over the minds of _everyone_. High Command was to stay out of the line of fire, so when Tem Ren said very calmly over the battle strategies that Hux would be coming with them, there was an immediate uproar. It seemed like the dignity of High Command went out the window when a war was on.

“He was the first attacked! And now you want to bring him down where Snoke could get at him more efficiently?” asked Yhen.

“He was the one who promised to kill us,” pointed out Tem.

“Except Snoke seems to bear him personal grudge,” said Delan. “Up here there’s at least distance.”

“There was distance when he nearly caused Hux brain damage,” said Nova, her voice ruthlessly flat. “There was distance when we were infants and he still ended up raising us more than our biological parents did. Distance means nothing.” Turning to him, she continued, “You’re in danger here and you’re in danger on the planet and honestly you’d be in danger if you were in some barely populated corner of the Republic. If you’re with us, we can at least try to protect you.”

“You’re going to kidnap me even if we refuse aren’t you?” asked Hux.

“More or less,” agreed Obsi.

Delan looked like she was physically in pain, and it was Xiu who said, “You realize that you have essentially threatened him.”

“But we’re trying to protect him,” protested Nova. “We need to kill Snoke. But Hux is in danger. So we need to protect him because he promised to protect us and kill us if we need. So he has to come with us.”

Sen folded his lips and said, “That doesn’t make logical sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“There isn’t time to get into logical philosophy,” interrupted Delan. “Hux, you were specifically targeted, so we have to keep you safe. The worst way to do that is to send you into a _war zone._ ”

“Normally, I would agree,” said Hux. “But I was not targeted with a physical attack, and somehow I doubt staying somewhere sparsely populated will protect me any more than being among many.”

“Why do you want to go running into the middle of a battle?” asked Xiu, hand over his face. “We promoted you because you don’t _have_ battle lust.”

“If I stay up here, chances are he’ll overwhelm my mind again and reduce me to the vegetative state he threatened to leave us _all_ in. And if the dire warnings are true he’ll turn the Knights back to his side and there’s a good chance everyone at this planet will die, either in battle or in execution as a failed rebellion.” It poured easily from his mouth, complete surety in the words, and he blinked when he finished saying it. He almost thought that one of the Knights might have put it into his mouth, but it…didn’t feel like it. He didn’t know why he was so sure about it.

It was not an insubstantial amount of time later that it was finally agreed that Hux would go down to the planet, in the company of Obsi Ren, the rest of the Knights would split between other shuttles, and direct them all to where Snoke did spend his time. The fortress would be stormed and held by a smaller force, the majority to Snoke himself.

Quen Tor cheerfully informed Hux that General Xiu thought that it was the worst battle plan they had ever come up with, and Hux just took a breath and hoped the man lived long enough for him to have a discussion on privacy and tact.

_I’m used to sowing dissent and widening cracks,_ Quen Tor said, even as the Knights parted ways to six different shuttles. _I do it half on instinct, now. I might get worse, we are going to kill the man who was my parent more than the ones who gave me life._

Obsi looked like he wanted to unsheathe his sword, but the close quarters kept that from happening, as did Hux’s occasional glances his way. The shuttle itself was filled with soldiers, and not one of them looked anything but terrified. Whether that came from what was waiting on the planet below or from a Knight of Ren being with them, it was uncertain.

The planet Snoke hid himself on was larger than most, and the Knights directed the majority of the forces southeast, a few thousand miles from the fortress that Snoke ruled the nation from. Already those on the planet, for the most part those who vied for political favor or just enjoyed the prestige of living close to the Supreme Leader, were mounting a resistance, small crafts of their own firing at those descending on Snoke’s fortress.

There were TIE fighters suddenly veering to crash into another, shuttles nosediving down towards the planet only sometimes did they suddenly jolt back towards formation, when Obsi saw it, he nodded and said shortly, his voice impossibly deep, “That is Snoke’s doing. He is inhabiting the minds of the pilots, forcing them to crash to kill themselves and all those onboard. There’s enough he can’t get them all. It will get worse as we get closer. If our pilot acts strange, knock him unconscious and take over. Or kill him. That will work too.”

“We are not going to kill our pilot,” said Hux shortly, fists clenched. Obsi merely shrugged, and with a feeling like static in Hux’s mind spoke only to him, his voice too loud in the mind.

_I’ve greased his mind like I did yours. But I can’t guarantee anything. I’m more focused on you than him._

The corner Snoke was hiding in was still in the middle of the night, or perhaps very early morning, there was no sun’s glare to obstruct view up to the space battle, it almost looked like a distant lightning storm as the majority of the forces touched down in a ravine that had been carved into a thousand different shapes, all glad their shuttles hadn’t been crashed into the planet’s surface. In the night, the rocks looked like castles, and when the amassed forces looked out over it, it was impossible to see where it ended or even where Snoke might hide. Hux couldn’t help but think the man had too much of a taste for the dramatic.

“It’s a hell of a place to get lost in,” said Tem, gun in hand while Nova unwrapped her net from about her torso.

“Best have your weapons drawn, we might end up attacking any of you,” said Penninah. “Snoke knows we’re here, he might take us over.”

“He won’t,” murmured Hux, certain as he had been on the _Finalizer._ Frowning, he followed into the impossible ravine, the rest following him.

The first sign came when one of the Stormtroopers opened fire on those around him, Tem hefted his own gun and shot the trooper down. Seventeen dead. The next when fifty turned around and walked away into the shadows of the rocks and out of sight. The next when a rock suddenly cracked off and fell, Nova and Khee both reaching up and catching it with the Force. Snoke was trying to thin them down if not kill them all.

By the time the Knights stopped dead at what looked like a crack in one of the countless rock walls, they had lost over half their forces in the ravine both literally among the formations or dead by Snoke’s interference. Those who were left were antsy, jumping at every noise and clutching at their blasters. Snoke could be in at least fifty minds at once, the silence of the ravine was terrifying for it. They had brought six battalions, and now they were down to just over one, but even that one wasn’t complete, but made up of those left over from the other battalions.

“He’s in there. Kylo too,” said Khee. Almost as one, every head turned to Hux. He was a General of High Command, he could make these decisions without needing to answer to anyone.

“If everyone goes in, how many die?” he asked.

Quen Tor shrugged, and it was Penninah who said, “Most.”

“How do we avoid most dying?”

Khee looked like she was going to reply, but never did answer, pops of noise like a puppy calling for its mother escaping her. It was a vision. She lifted her mask only high enough to bite down on her own hand, muffling her screams as she succumbed to it. She ended up on her knees, curled into herself, absolutely shrieking but for the muffling of her own hand. Obsi crouched next to her, unmoving, and it was a deeply disturbing thing to bear witness too. When the vision passed, Khee pulled down her mask and stood on shaky legs, immediately turning and sprinting into the passage in the wall.

With a black oath, Obsi followed, swiftly by Quen Tor, Tem, and Peninnah, but Nova remained out. “Half of you follow, half remain here,” she said. “In fifteen minutes, the rest.” And with that, she turned and ran in.

Usually, he would have to remain outside of the line of fire, and give orders. But just as before another rock formation snapped, and came tumbling down, sending them into chaos. It most certainly had been done by Snoke, as it blocked the entrance entirely.

It took fifteen minutes to get enough of an entrance for anyone to pass through, and he sent everyone through before following himself. It was an impossible scene. It was a roughhewn cave, filled with bioluminescent mushrooms and nothing else, the only light coming from the fungus, and even that was barely enough, just enough to see the edges of the cavern, and to see there were more passages, a natural cave system enlarged. And that was only the room. Everyone who had gone in just moments before were either unconscious or frozen, held in place even as they struggled to move. The Knights were nowhere to be found, and but for the choked sounds of those struggling to move, there was only the distant sound of wind.

And then he felt a tug. Like when Kylo dragged people around but gentler. It was tugging him down a rough stone passage, and he stood his ground instead. Vaguely, he wondered why he wasn’t frozen or already vegetative. He was in Snoke’s domain, completely alone. The tug continued, but he had no way of knowing who was on the other end, and if he tried, he could keep from taking more than the occasional step. He would go nowhere, not in enemy territory and half-blind.

But even isolated steps counted for moving forward, and too soon he was at the mouth of the entrance to a passage, and the tug was getting insistent. And then, slid into his mind, was not an image but an idea. A tree would be wrenched from its roots and killed by the tidal wave, but the animals who ran lived another day. He didn’t know if it was advice or a warning, but he understood it well enough. He let the tug pull him along, into the winding passages. Behind him, he could still hear the choked noises of those he had sent in before him, some perhaps more urgent now.

Somewhere, echoing, he heard someone cry out as though in pain, and another voice let out a long whine, and immediately came a great pressure just behind his ears. His heart jumped, and his breathing grew fast and shaky, but Snoke did not press down on his whole mind, did not fulfill his threat, did not kill him. Instead, he heard Snoke whisper, in such a way that he wasn’t sure if it was in the mind or in the room around him, and yet for all that it was a whisper it was still louder than the heartbeat in his ears.

_Abroad as I was walking one evening in the spring, I heard a girl imprisoned so sweetly for to sing,_ he whispered and for some reason it was the most terrifying thing. _Her chains she rattled in her hands and thus replied she; “I love my love because I know my love loves me.” Just as she sat there weeping, her love he came on land. And hearing she was imprisoned, he ran straight out of hand. He flew into her snow-white arms and thus replied he: “I love my love because I know my love loves me.” She said, “my love, don’t frighten me are you my love or no?” “Oh yes, my dearest Nancy, I am your love also I am returned to make amends for all your injury. I love my love because I know my love loves me.” So now these two are married and happy may they be, like turtledoves together in love and unity. All pretty maids with patience wait that have a love at sea. I love my love because I know my love loves me._

He was being mocked. The silence of the cave was so oppressive, he couldn’t find it in him to speak, and instead thought with a quiet but strong thought, _I am not here because of love._

_Oh General, I know why you’re here. The only reason you stand against me is because of Kylo Ren and your attachment to him. If you hated him, there would be no civil war. You would have given him to me and thought nothing of it._

_The Knights—_

_Would not have come to you. You make a war because you love one man._

Despite that it felt wrong, he spoke, willing his voice to steady and speaking into the dark of the cave. “Snoke. High Command has spoken with one voice. We remove from you your position as Supreme Leader by any means necessary. We ask that you step down in peace, that you spare those of the nation from the deaths that would come of pointless conflict.”

_Yes, dreadfully compelling._

There was blinding pain beneath the curve of his skull, and suddenly he couldn’t keep his balance, and he pitched forwards, his hands not even coming up to catch himself, just falling limply to the ground. It hurt, and it was much harder than it should to get back up. Snoke was pressing onto his cerebellum, where he could hardly control his muscle movements. He could feel muscles twitching all down his legs, jumping like electricity was flickering through them, and now the tug was physically pulling him along even as he struggled to get back to his feet.

The pain eased only to press at the top of his head, and suddenly there was no light at all, and he was afraid, and then there was still no light but he could feel he was hurtling forward at a thousand miles an hour and this wasn’t like space where there was no wind resistance and nothing to crash into, this was dangerous. He didn’t know how it happened either. The cave was gone around him, he could feel no rock, and all there was was this wind as he went flying to what was probably his death. He could hear nothing, not even as he was fairly sure he was screaming. And then suddenly he realized he was just laying still, curled on the ground of the cave, screaming at nothing at all.

This was the power Snoke held, and Hux could not move for a long time, terrified of what next would befall him. Was he to be tormented until his brain could not withstand it anymore? No longer just killed but tortured to insanity?

And then he realized time was passing and he felt no more pain and suffered no more hallucinations, and he stumbled to his feet, looking about and getting his bearings best he could with nothing but the faintest of glows from the fungus. There was no pressure behind his ears either. Snoke had left him alone.

Another tug came, this one little more than pulling at his hand as though to catch his attention, not something that would move his whole body without his permission, and remembering the idea of the tidal wave he followed it, wary the whole time and hand resting on his blaster. The caves twisted the way caves did, carved the same way as the ravine outside, and a faint whistling of wind permeated the whole system. He walked through rooms that had nothing more than a few discarded blankets in them, a room that had a pedestal with something on top for all he could tell by the faint glow, and suddenly he came to a room entirely bare but for what looked like a dark smudge on the ground before him.

The tug was gone now, and he moved forward to it, it was too small to be Snoke lying in wait, after all. It was Nova, her trident half obscured under her body, her net wrapped tight about her neck. Quickly, he pulled it away, and in a rush pulled off her mask as well. Her face was blank, her eyes glassy, but she breathed. “Was that you?” he whispered once he was sure she hadn’t died, but it echoed horribly. “Were you trying to get help?”

She didn’t respond, but without the mask, she seemed to breathe easier. She would hate being unmasked when she came back to herself, but she had nearly been strangled and he didn’t really want to impede air flow for her and he wasn’t sure how good at ventilation those masks were. He kept her net in his hands even as he stood, feeling the cords woven of coarse string and metal strands together, this net meant not to catch fish but enemies. The surety came back. If he left it here, she’d end up with it around her neck again. At least a trident was too cumbersome to stab one’s self with.

So he wrapped the net about his torso the way he had seen Nova do it, and made sure the trident wasn’t stabbing at her. His hands were shaking as he did so, not knowing why Snoke had left him alone, not knowing how Nova had ended up near strangled. And then, echoing through the caves, he heard a voice screaming in horror and pain, before it abruptly cut off. Another, more distant, and then Nova beside him shrieked, her body contorting and her voice raw. In moments it stopped and she went limp again, gasping, but no more aware than before. Another scream, and Hux understood. He was being protected from Snoke, his mind greased perhaps, and Snoke was trying to find who was doing so, wrenching into the minds of his apprentices to rip away that protection and get back to him.

Four screams, he didn’t have time before he’d be caught in the manipulations of his brain’s functions again, but he didn’t know where to go. A fifth scream, this one drawn out, full of pain, and whether it was Tem, Obsi, or Quen Tor, one of them had been found out as the one protecting Hux. There was no surety, no tug, but he still ran blindly through the caves, barely avoiding crashing into the stone walls.

The scream pitched upwards, sounding as though some horrible torture was being inflicted, and then it stopped, but in the silence of the caves, a distant whimpering could be heard. Clinging to a cold curve in the wall, Hux took a deep breath and spoke aloud, his voice less sturdy than he would wish as he said, “Since you have not stepped down in peace, you will be brought down by any means necessary. You will be brought to task, and you will be removed.”

A sound like an animal growling hummed through the caves, and there was no pressure on his head just yet, so he didn’t know what that was. And then what felt like a vice settled at the base of his skull, and suddenly he was swallowing convulsively. Snoke had gotten hold of his brainstem. Terror filled him as he felt too hot and too cold in turns, before he was suddenly and without warning vomiting onto the ground before him, still convulsively swallowing until he was choking. And then a whisper in his mind, pressed heavily behind his ears.

_What an inglorious end for you, General. It’s usually only drunkards who go this way._

And then the pressure was gone again, and he stopped swallowing and suddenly vomited again, but this made it so he could breathe again, and he gasped a long time, unsure if the darkness at the edges of his vision had come from choking or if the cave was just that dark.

Casting his mind out best he could, thinking loud as possible, he hoped one of the Knights heard as he thought, _I need witnesses to Snoke’s end. Three, to be legal._

There came no response, and he just kept wandering the caves.

Time didn’t exist, not in here, it was measured in time between Snoke getting his hands on his brain, playing with his ability to sense the world around him, rendering him mute, deaf, blind, and insensible in turns. There was respite given by the Knights, but their screams heralded the end of those periods of rest. No one else seemed to move, no witnesses freed from where the front room. He couldn’t kill Snoke without witnesses, that would secure the legality in lack of official trial, that would make it legal execution and not just murder.

A tug at the hand pulled him, and last time he had followed such a sign he had managed to keep Nova from dying, so he followed. He didn’t know where he was, how deep these caves ran, but suddenly he could hear choked noises of those trapped, but they were few and far between. He emerged into that front room, and saw most had given up, limp even as they were held in the middle of running. Only a few tried, and those attempts were weak and feeble.

The tug was pulling him out, and surety filled him again. If he fired a flare, others would come. It would signal to Snoke exactly where he was too, but had he not withstood much already? Help would come, and Snoke was powerful, yes, but he could not control the minds of everyone, was that not how they had gotten onto the planet at all?

He went back out into the cold night in the ravine, changed the setting on his blaster, pointed it to the sky, and fired off a flare. He waited a minute and fired another. That time, he was immediately besieged by Snoke, and fell to his knees, curling into himself and shrieking for the pain that suddenly raced through his entire being. He didn’t know how long he had stayed that way, but when he came gasping back to his senses, suddenly aware that the pain had been an illusion of signals firing wildly through his brain, he heard voices nearby. Those who had gotten lost in the impossible twists and crags of the ravine. Over half the force who had come.

He was still shaking from the illusionary pain and startled when a hand touched his shoulder. “Easy,” admonished a familiar voice, and he blinked in confusion to see Yhen there. “You look like hell.”

“I feel like it,” he managed, voice raw from screaming and from bile. Yhen helped him stand and passed him a bottle of water, and he gulped it down best he could. “What are you doing here?”

“Your tracker went dark, so did a few of your forces’. We were getting calls from those lost in a ravine, all saying Snoke had done something to them. I prefer working in proximity, and I couldn’t abide another moment on a ship. So I came down with six more battalions, got everyone together, and then your flares went off. Where’s the rest? And the Knights?”

“In there,” he said, nodding to what looked like an over glorified crack in the wall if not for the fact that he had been horribly tormented in there.

“And this?” asked Yhen, plucking at the net still about his torso.

“I found Nova Ren in there, this is her net. It was wrapped about her neck to strangle her. I took it so she couldn’t end up that way again. I don’t know if someone did it to her, or if Snoke took her over and made her self-inflict it.” Yhen let out a black oath to hear that, and looked grave.

“Is that a possibility? That he could make someone do something like that?”

“He’s been digging around my brain the entire time I’ve been here, I only get breaks when the Knights can keep him out. I sincerely hope no one ever gets control over your brainstem, Yhen.”

“When this is done, you are going to undergo a lot of tests for brain damage,” warned the older General, before he set his shoulders and said, “If over half the forces had to be thinned out, that means Snoke cannot maintain control over a certain number. We all go in, he can’t hold everyone.” Hux merely nodded, and let the older man take care of the orders.

“You’ll need light,” warned Hux, the only thing he added. “There’s only biolumiscent fungus in there. Turn it on now, you’ll forget when you’re in there.”

There came a warning crack in a nearby rock formation, but Snoke had already done all he could in snapping one in half before, and even if he knocked it over it wouldn’t impede them. It didn’t seem like a show of power anymore, but desperate attempts to intimidate, because Snoke knew he would lose.

“We’ll need two to stay with us,” said Yhen. “For execution.” An officer and a Stormtrooper were chosen, and despite that his legs weren’t at full strength, Hux straightened his spine and prepared to go back in. From within the passage came a scream, faint from distance but born entirely of pain, and Hux found himself trembling, afraid of what would come once the six screams were done.

But that scream also was all the push needed, and the entire force rushed in best they could with the passage only wide enough to admit one at a time. They all also had the state of mind to turn on their lights before going in. Hux, Yhen, and their two witnesses followed, and this time there were long sustained screams, Snoke pressing full force on the Knights now that no one was restrained or else were being roused from unconsciousness, a kind that had to be enforced for that they were all waking at once.

The screams tapered off, and Hux trembled before it happened. Pain at the back of his head, and he couldn’t remember where he was or who was with him. An older man in military dress was looking at him in confusion and concern, but he didn’t know who that _was._ All he knew was he was in a cave filled with people all rushing about, beams of light from flashlights swinging over the walls as they split to rush down passages and he _didn’t know where he was._

“Hux!” the old man was saying, voice sharp. “What’s going on?”

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t say anything. He didn’t know how this man knew his family name. Did the man know his father, had his father mentioned him? But that didn’t explain why he was in a cave. The man was touching his shoulder now, and he startled back, muscle memory swiping at the hand as he backed up, pressing himself against a cave wall. “I don’t know who you are, but I did not give you permission to touch me,” he said, voice strong as he could make it.

“Hux, you know me, we work together.”

“I don’t,” he insisted. “I don’t know who you are or where I am and I’m not going to just trust you on your word.”

Abruptly the pain shifted to the front of his head, and even as he gasped to remember (Snoke must have been obstructing his memories), he found he couldn’t talk. He could only fumble towards approximations of words, and if it wasn’t terrifying to have your brain be turned against you, he probably would have been infinitely more humiliated. There was pain behind his ears again, and he couldn’t understand what was being said to him. He was probably just babbling noise, but he couldn’t find language nor could he understand it.

He didn’t know how long it took, but it was longer than before, or he would guess so. When finally he would breathe and think and speak under his own will again, he was exhausted, and had managed to gather a bit of an audience. “They’re getting tired,” managed Hux. “The Knights. They can’t keep him at bay like before.”

“We need to find him soon then,” agreed Yhen, looking almost as shaken as Hux felt, and that had only been one attack.

A call went up, catching their attention, and two Stormtroopers were very nearly carrying Obsi Ren, still masked but lacking his sword, trembling violently. They had found him curled up and looking like he was seizing, but when Yhen made noise of having him taken back to medical attention, Obsi managed to rouse himself and said, “I will not go, I will kill you if you make me go.”

“Obsi,” started Hux.

“ _No!_ They need me, _you_ need me, you will not send me away!” And then he froze and said, “That is Nova’s.”

“I found her with it wrapped as like to strangle her. I took it so it could not happen again.”

“Where? Where did you find her?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Lord Ren, we mean to find Snoke and execute him with legal witness,” interrupted Yhen. “You may stay if you tell us where we might find him.”

“These caves are nearly as bad as the ravine outside,” said Obsi. “But there are corners he would be in.”

“Then show us to those corners.”

The Knight, still trembling, nodded and took a breath so deliberately the sound was picked up by the vocoder, and he slowly stood straight. But for a shake in his hands, he looked held together and sturdy as a rock. Deliberately, Obsi turned to the passages again, and went forward.

It was slow going, and every so often the Knight whimpered, curling into himself as though he was in pain, but he continued on nonetheless. He collapsed to his knees once, curling into himself and letting out a long, pained whine, and he would only allow Hux to pull him back to his feet, leaning onto the General as they continued on. If before there had only been the sounds of wind and distant screams from the Knights, it was almost worse to hear the distant sounds of the forces they had brought storming through the cave system.

And then he started screaming again, the vocoder distorting it into something horrifying, convulsing and throwing himself to slam his head against the stone wall as though it would ease the pain. Hux pulled him away best he could, but it took all four to hold him back from harming himself further. And still the man was screaming. “Grease your own mind,” ordered Hux. “I can survive another, you’re going to only hurt yourself.”

Obsi’s screams tapered off, and he grabbed onto Hux’s arm and whispered, “He waits ahead. We will suffer, but do not turn. We will protect you.”

Hux just nodded, and they let Obsi curl into himself against the cave wall, shaking. The four looked at each other, the Stormtrooper removing her helmet and discarding it. “You three don’t have armor,” she said, voice trying to be impassive but shaking too much to be convincing. Her head was shaved, and the curve of her skull looked vulnerable.

The four went ahead, and the room before them had a single crack in the ceiling, letting wind whistle in. Standing there was Snoke, and on the ground beside him was a figure. A figure in a horrible sort of torpor that Hux immediately recognized. That was Kylo.

“Snoke,” said Yhen, head held high, and he looked far more composed than Hux had been even at the start. “High Command has spoken with one voice. We remove from you your position as Supreme Leader. Since you have not stepped down in peace, you will be brought down by any means necessary. Before two Generals of High Command, you will be executed, with three witnesses no matter who ends your life.”

“The little General already tried that,” dismissed Snoke, waving his hand in dismissal, and sending Hux flying through the air to crash into a wall, his head kept from intense contact by the small group of mushrooms that softened that blow. “I am disinclined to accept.”

There was ringing in Hux’s ears, and beyond it he could hear Obsi screaming outside, and the fact that he was not insensible and Yhen and the others weren’t either meant that Snoke was trying to rip past the Knights to get to their minds. If he could think straight, if he could manage to get back to his feet and speak, he’d condemn Snoke to death and fire his blaster enough times that he couldn’t catch every bolt, hoping he was distracted enough that one of them would pass by and kill him.

But he couldn’t stand, let alone execute anyone. His head was absolutely throbbing with pain, be it from Snoke’s fiddling with it or from the blow that had barely been softened, he wasn’t sure. Yhen was frozen, unable to move, and Snoke narrowed his eyes, apparently angry he could do no more than physical manipulations. The screams outside shot up in pitch, but he could not take over their minds. The officer who had come, a Major, lifted her blaster and levelled it at Snoke, and proceeded to loose bolt after bolt, all batted away or frozen. The Stormtrooper too lifted hers and fired, and with the second attacker, it seemed to startle Snoke into loosening his hold on Yhen, who too started firing. Too many got too close to Kylo, but none actually hit him, which was a relief.

With the screaming from outside, the ringing in his ears, and the sound of blaster fire, it was near impossible to think straight, but it seemed the impromptu firing squad wasn’t working, and suddenly he became very aware of the net still tied about his torso. More forces arrived, probably following the sounds of blaster fire and a Knight screaming, and they too made to open fire, before Snoke let out a growl of rage and batted them away. He was so focused on them and on taking what protection the Knights could offer, he didn’t seem to be noticing Hux, perhaps thinking him knocked unconscious. All those facing Snoke had beams of light trained on him, and for a man who skulked about in caves lit only by fungus, it had to be absolutely blinding.

Closing his eyes tight and taking a breath, Hux reached up and turned out his own light, mounted on his shoulder. He was still disoriented, his head was throbbing, but he felt that deadly surety in him again, and it had yet to prove entirely false, so he was going to trust it. With shaking hands, he undid the knot that held the net about him, and let it fall into his hands. Snoke, with so many enemies who were not possibly brain damaged from who knew how long of playing with brain functions, did not notice when he made his painful way along the edges of the room towards him and Kylo.

He wanted he _wanted_ to spirit Kylo away, get him safe back into Dr. Fatiaki’s care, see him recovered, but he couldn’t be turned from his course, even as he wasn’t sure this would work. It would take a split second to realize what was happening, and he needed much longer than a split second. Still, Nova’s net was weighted to be thrown, to catch enemies so she could spear them with her trident, it wasn’t meant to float to cover as much ground as possible. And that’s what made the difference.

The net wound about Snoke’s neck, and he tried to turn, but Hux was already pulling at both ends, strangling the once Supreme Leader with the last of the strength he had. But it wasn’t enough, and Snoke actually physically batted him away, and it was probably only from the previous abuse that he fell so easy, expecting the blow and bracing for it as he had been. He landed painfully near Kylo, blood filling his mouth from a split lip, and could only watch dumbly as in that single moment of distraction, a single bolt went flying from among its fellows frozen in the air and struck Snoke.

He fell, dead like any other being, and it was impossible to know who landed the killing blow, only that now instead of three witnesses to make it legal, there were at least a dozen. Hux closed, his eyes, relieved, only to be shaken violently, making him open his eyes, almost convinced Snoke hadn’t died, that it had been mistaken, but it was Yhen, who said, “You cannot go to sleep until a medical professional has looked you over.”

There was someone sobbing, and then through the door rushed Obsi, unmasked, tears streaming down his face, looking like an infant animal just figuring out how to walk even as the instincts were there and didn’t need to be taught. Seeing a Knight unmasked was terrifying, apparently, as everyone in the room parted to let him through as he ran, still sobbing, to Kylo’s side, curling over him and pressing his brow to Kylo’s limp hand. He looked up at the Generals, and there was a smile on his face, closer to baring his teeth like Khee’s smiles, and he said, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Soon Nova joined, just as shaky, and she too was sobbing. Quen Tor had to be helped in by a petty officer, so badly was he trembling, but he fell to his knees, embracing Nova and sobbing into each other’s shoulders. Khee was next, coming under her own power for all that she fell halfway across the room and had to crawl the rest of the way, and then Tem, and finally Penninah. The six clustered about Kylo, and everyone was still mute in horror and awe and amazement that they had _killed Snoke._

“We need to get him into treatment,” Hux finally managed, nodding towards Kylo, and the second he said so, Kylo’s body jerked. They were returning his senses to him, or else the bindings were loosened now that Snoke was dead and he was getting out himself.

And then Kylo was scrabbling at the ground around him, writhing and held down by the Knights, before deep gasping breaths rushed in and out of his nose, and finally his eyes, turned from half-open and glassy to squeezed shut for new stimulus. And then, finally, laying there and staring up at the ceiling, he too began to cry. The seven knights were curled around each other then, like children playing hiding games trying to all fit behind a piece of furniture, and all sobbing, and all whispering to each other in a circular, vowel heavy language. Kylo did not move, did not speak, only cried and let his Knights each push to be closest to him.

Hux remembered then, what they had told him. At any moment they were allies or enemies, but they had each and all loved Kylo, and loved him enough to kill the man who had near raised them. He remembered Obsi’s mountains, how he ran wild through them and how he implicitly trusted the voice in his head and how he hadn’t given thought to his parents at all. He closed his eyes again, even as he gestured to Yhen that he wasn’t trying to sleep, and tried to just think of what it took to love someone enough to kill someone you loved just as much.

Finally, a stretcher was brought and through the Knights bristling as though they had the defensive spines of an Erethzion, Kylo was loaded onto it and carried out, the six following so close they might as well have been the ones doing the carrying. One was brought for Hux too, and if it weren’t for who knew how long of torment in these caves, he would have protested, but he was willing to set aside his pride for a bare moment.

What happened to Snoke’s body was someone else’s concern now, he thought.

Outside the cave, dawn was starting to creep into the ravine, the dark castle like structures revealed to be pale stone with strips telling the sedimentary history of this corner of the planet. It would have been beautiful, if he were in any place to appreciate it.

People were talking urgently all around him, all saying Snoke was dead and calling for Dr. Fatiaki and Dr. Mabuse to both be ready because their patients desperately needed them now. He wasn’t in much place to listen, only heard these things as though from a great distance. He was brought onto a shuttle and his stretcher secured so as not to jostle him, and when he turned his head, he was next to Kylo, their stretchers pressed side by side to save room.

It was probably the brain damage, but Kylo was unconscious now, truly so and not in whatever horrible state he had been kept in, and so Hux didn’t even think before he reached and took his Knight’s hand in his. And despite warnings, he couldn’t stay conscious any longer, and he slipped into darkness. 

* * *

He woke to see Dr. Mabuse nearby, adjusting some device that was attached to his head, and when she saw he was awake, she turned to him with a grave face and said with no preamble (and that was what he liked about her), “We’ve done scans. Snoke wasn’t just tormenting you, he was actively trying to kill you.”

“I know that, he took control of my brainstem and tried to get me to choke to death on vomit,” he managed. She didn’t look at all comforted to know that he was coherent and had memories, which he thought was an achievement.

“You have brain damage. Enough that I don’t want to keep you conscious. I’m going to talk to you about it, obviously, but it is my professional opinion that you should be kept in medical coma, to give your brain a chance to recover.”

“The Knights? They were screaming, trying to protect me.”

“I remind you they are Dr. Fatiaki’s patients, not mine. I don’t actually know. Now, do you think you can stay awake? I do want to discuss your treatment with you, and High Command wanted to come speak to you. Please, be honest.”

Long honed instinct told him to say he could do both, but when he stopped and actually thought, he opened his mouth and said slowly, “I think I can manage one of those. I’d prefer to discuss treatment.”

“Alright.” She pulled up a chair then and sat next to him, a low chair that put her at eye level with him. And they talked. In a coma, he could rest his brain but for essential functions it would do automatically (and even if it didn’t, being in observation meant he wouldn’t die), and there was a greater chance he would fully recover, if perhaps for occasional migraines. He could, of course, refuse to go into medical coma, and it was without judgment that Dr. Mabuse walked him through what _that_ would mean. He would have to be on enforced leave of all work and put on what essentially amounted to bedrest. He wouldn’t be allowed use of screens, and nothing in small print even if it was in physical form. It would take longer for his brain to heal, but it could still happen.

In the end, Hux faded before he could make a decision, and Dr. Mabuse urged him to get as much sleep as possible, as it would help his brain heal and told him not to worry as he was under observation now.

When he next woke, he was alone, but not for long, some sensor probably telling that he was now awake. Dr. Mabuse returned, checked his eyes, asked him to follow her finger, and then told him High Command wanted to meet with him, if he could handle it. He was already sliding back into sleep, though, and she nodded like she had expected that.

It was the fourth time he woke that he could actually speak with them, and when they entered his room, he didn’t even bother trying to sit up, he knew it wasn’t going to happen. Yhen looked relieved that he was awake and aware, and said, “I was convinced you’d not survive for a bit. I have never been more glad to be proven wrong.”

“Yes, well, we have a situation on our hands,” said Xiu, looking uncomfortable. “The war’s not done just because Snoke is dead.”

“Of course not,” agreed Hux.

“Dr. Mabuse has informed us that she would like to induce a coma to let your brain damage heal. Even if you don’t accept and prefer to stay conscious, you will be barred from war meetings.”

“I trust you to be able to handle a war. You did the last ones.”

“True,” agreed Delan. “But if you do accept going into a coma, we won’t be able to ask you anything. We need to know, if you do accept your doctor’s advice, will you consent to being on what will be essentially the front lines? As things are, we’re not sure there’s any planet you will be entirely safe on. Your parents are of course insisting you go to Al Ŝimo in any case, but we _are_ already looking into an extraction plan for them, and we don’t know where they will end up.”

“The First Accord happened when I was a child,” said Hux. “I spent the last years of my childhood and my entire teenage years in a warzone, and I’ve hardly left. If my parents cannot be called upon to make decisions as next of kin, I consent to High Command making those decisions.”

“And if your parents are brought here?” prompted Sen.

“Then I trust you to discuss with them and inform them of the choices you made and why.”

“ _Are_ you going to accept the coma?” asked Yhen.

“I don’t know yet.”

They continued discussing what was to be done, until Hux started visibly lagging behind, and only then did they retreat. Dr. Mabuse came to check on him when they were gone, and he touched her wrist to make her stay a moment when he asked (and he would blame it on the brain damage if he had to), “If I accept this coma, will that be running away?”

“General,” she said, sitting beside him, “I am a doctor. I very firmly believe that taking care of one’s body is the first and foremost duty we have. I will not pressure you, but I do believe that you _need_ to go into this coma so you can have a chance to heal. It is not running away, it is caring for your body. You have a duty to the nation, yes. But that duty does not prescribe that you kill yourself in service to it. You came close enough as it is, in those caves.”

Hux nodded, and removed his hand, laying still in bed. Dr. Mabuse left soon after.

When he fell asleep, he dreamed he was back in those caves, and this time it was not just playing with brain functions, but Snoke had full control over his body. And with trembling hand, he was forced to lift his blaster to his own head. He woke panicked, the monitor of his heartbeat beeping wildly as it pounded, and it took too long for him to realize that he was safe. He had a feeling he’d be having nightmares of those caves for as long as he lived.

When the nurse droid had assured that it had only been a nightmare and no medical emergency, he was alone again, and while he knew the induced coma was the best bet for him, he had no desire to be trapped in those nightmares. As he lay there, trying to rationalize past it, there came a knock at the door before it opened, revealing Dr. Fatiaki, pushing a wheelchair with Tem Ren in it, or he was fairly sure, given that the man had curled himself under his arms to hide his face.

“He was insistent,” said the doctor, and only when the door closed behind him did Tem uncurl. He looked ashy, and generally unwell, and he took control of the wheelchair immediately, wheeling to Hux’s bedside and ignoring the doctor. “I’ll leave you be.”

When Dr. Fatiaki was gone, Tem frowned and said, “They say I have to have dental surgery. I’ve never gone to a dentist before, and they say I have supernumerary teeth, and I need them pulled.”

“You have no dental records?” asked Hux. “None?”

“No. Before, they were so worried about the rest of us they didn’t notice, but now they care.”

“Yes, because there’s room to care about multiple issues at once. Tem, why are you here?”

“You helped Nova. Snoke made her strangle herself, just enough to be punishment. She gave you a battle plan, so that had to be punished. But you helped her, you took the net from her neck and took it with you so it couldn’t happen again. You could have decided to kill her, take that as time to fulfill your promise to us. But you didn’t. And we’re alive. And so’s Kylo.” There was something close to real pleasure there, at the end, that Kylo was alive.

“You’re welcome?”

“We heard your nightmare, but we can’t come help. Your brain is too fragile. Usually we’d try and help, but we can’t do anything. So I came. Kylo would, I think, but he’s in intensive care, since he’s still irradiated. They said something about his blood being too thin? I don’t know if they can fix that, though.” Tem then glanced up at him and said, “I’m talking too much, aren’t I? I’ve been talking too much ever since Snoke died. I know that. Obsi says he told you, but I wasn’t sure if you actually knew, and Nova said it makes sense to make it clear.”

“That…you think you talk too much?”

“No. That we don’t hurt anymore. Quen Tor said he figured you’d think we meant right away, when Snoke wasn’t hurting us to make us stop protecting you, but I mean all the time. When Snoke was around, we hurt all the time. There wasn’t a moment we weren’t in pain. But we only knew that when Snoke was dead.”

“Tem, I’m not the one who killed him.”

“But he had the net around his neck.”

“I was only making to distract him. It was a blaster that killed him. He’s as vulnerable as anyone else to one of those.”

Tem frowned again, and there was substance to his emotions now. Before, the Knights never seemed to have depth, they expressed emotions but they always seemed blank beneath them, but now he was a full man. “Can they fix your brain?” he asked after a long time.

“It isn’t like your teeth, they can’t go in and pull out the problem. There’s hope I can fully recover, but the medical advice is for me to go into an induced coma.”

“What does that mean?”

Hux looked at the Knight, and realized that this man knew painfully little of the galaxy for all that he had been. He was exactly as the philosophy that rationalized Stormtroopers was; a man who knew nothing beyond his purpose. “An induced coma means that they’ll give me an injection, and I’ll go into a coma, a state of prolonged unconsciousness. I won’t respond to stimuli, I won’t have a normal sleep and waking rhythm, I’ll have to be under observation to make sure that all is well. It’s not what Kylo underwent.”

“I know what a coma is,” said Tem, frowning. “I just don’t know why you’d induce one.”

“If I’m unconscious, it gives my brain a chance to heal. There’s a shorter recovery time estimated if I take the coma, and the hope is that I’ll just get migraines.”

“You don’t sound like you want that, though.”

“I’d say it’s because of my duty to my nation, but I feel like you’d know that’s not the whole truth.”

“You’re right.”

Tem looked at him, expectant, until Hux sighed and said, “If I’m in a coma, I can’t wake. I don’t really want to be back in the caves.”

“We left our helmets, our weapons, and the mark of our order there,” agreed Tem, “and we don’t really want to go back either. What makes you think you’ll have nothing but nightmares the whole time?”

“It isn’t exactly a logical train of thought.”

“Kylo always told us you never really expected that out of us anyway, so maybe I’ll understand.”

A smile tugged at his lips despite himself, and he turned onto his side carefully, to better face Tem. “I don’t know which parts of my brain are the most damaged. Snoke seemed everywhere all at once. Do you know how common dreams are in coma patients?”

“No.”

“Neither do I. But I do know that they _can_ happen. It depends on which part is damaged.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Tem frowned, nodded to himself, and said, “I think you should go into the coma.”

“Why?”

“Because then Kylo can come see you. When your brain’s healed a bit more, he can come visit you in your mind. He misses you.” Hux closed his eyes to hear that, teeth worrying at the slowly healing split in his lip. “He said the first thing he heard since Snoke took his hearing from him was your voice.”

“Of course it was,” he said, halfway to scoffing. Given that Snoke had mocked him with romantic poetry, it seemed almost planned.

“He doesn’t want to hurt you, he says even when he was trying to be careful he gave you headaches, and he says if he tries to talk to you now, you might die. But he still talks to us, if you want to tell him anything?”

There was so much he wanted to tell Kylo. He wanted to apologize for ever leaving him to Snoke and not just opening fire on the man when he was supposed to hand him over. He wanted to tell him about Guide Corin and how he had watered the seed of doubt FN-2187 had planted. He wanted to tell about Shara and her brother, he wanted to tell about Mrs. Furcht and Dev, he wanted to warn him the Republic hovered at their borders, he wanted to tell him that he’d wanted to kiss him the second he had become conscious, apologize for not doing so, wanted to tell him that now that he had a split lip, courtesy of Snoke, he’d really be kissing blood.

In the end, he looked to Tem and said, “Tell him I’m going to give Dr. Mabuse permission to keep him up to date on my coma. So he can know when to come see me.”

Tem nodded dutifully and wheeled back to the door. Hux didn’t take offense at not being bid farewell, he couldn’t really expect anything more from the Knights, especially now. 

* * *

Dr. Mabuse insisted on going over his wishes at least three times before she would induce the coma, which was probably a good thing, except he was getting tired and wanted to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t until the coma.

“In order, you give High Command and your parents equal rights as next of kin to make decisions for you while you can’t,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“And then you want the Knights of Ren to decide?”

“They’ve shown no hesitancy coming into my mind thus far, I want them to be kept up to date as to whether or not my brain can handle that without death.”

“That sounds like a fair decision to make. You consent to be comatose on the flagship in a civil war?”

“I do. I also preemptively consent to being moved if that is decided to be the best choice by those I’ve named as having right to make those decisions.”

“And you want me to consult them.”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” And then she took a syringe in hand and said, “One last chance. Do you want to be induced into a coma?

“I do.”

She nodded, and slid the needle into his vein, and pressed the plunger. It took a moment, but then he grew heavy and tired and as he closed his eyes and fell into unconsciousness, he could hear Dr. Mabuse say, “Goodnight, General.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're interested, the love poetry is (with a few minor changes) "A Maid in Bedlam" which was written into a choral piece by Gustav Holst. I recommend it, it's beautiful.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ RIAN JOHNSON WHERE ARE THE KOR???? also we went AU a million years ago I'm not even gonna try and include a lot of TLJ

He did not dream. He was not aware. The coma took all things from him, but he did not mourn that, nor could he. He had known, before he went under, what would happen to him. He would be moved every few hours at the most so that pressure ulcers could not form and kill him, his eyes would be tested every so often to see how his brainstem was healing, he would be constantly monitored to see if his brainwaves were approaching normal, he would be tested to see if he had enough potassium (apparently that was a very serious concern), and so on. But that had been before. After being bid goodnight, he knew nothing.

And then, from the nothing, came a dream. There was no sound, just image. He sat before an ocean, with silver skies above. It was Morpila, with its freshwater oceans. The waters were lapping at the beach, and he took off his boots and didn’t give thought to his clothing, walking to stand hip deep in the waters. The skies were perfectly clear, and the waters reflected it, sparkling like mercury under the sun.

He turned his head, and saw a figure approaching, knee deep, and when he saw who it was, he ran best he could, but water slowed him down, until he could wrap his arms around Kylo and be assured that he was there with him. For all that he had been slow when running the force of their impact sent them spinning around each other, falling to submerge underwater. In the ways dreams worked, suddenly they weren’t half so deep, and when they kissed, they didn’t need to muddle with any awkwardness of placement of any kind, it simply worked.

There was no sound, just image, but in the way dreams worked, he still understood Kylo entirely. Every day he had asked after him, to see how he was healing, he had ripped a blanket in half in frustration when the report every day was no change.

That was how comas worked, he told Kylo. They could last for months or years and very little healing could occur even in that time. He had managed to start a civil war over him, he would be asking after him every day if he was awake.

The war had to be started, Kylo told him. Snoke cared more about maintaining his own power than about the nation.

It might only have been a dream, but Hux had started a war over this man, and he wasn’t going to waste time chatting, and kissed him again, split lip filling both their mouths with the taste of blood. At the taste, Kylo grinned against his lips, because that kenning had become such a watchword between them and now at first reunion there it was. And then the dream faded, and Hux descended into the perfect unconsciousness of the coma, feeling no loss, no sadness, feeling nothing at all.

Kylo did not come all the time, not wanting to cause him harm but not willing to stay away, but Hux had no real perception of time, so he had to take the Knight at his word. There was still no sound, only image, but they could yet communicate, if only because that’s what happened in dreams. They walked on bare moons and did not choke on lack of oxygen, they sat in the courtyard of the Hotel Condott in Benau, they sat in the crowded recreation room the children of the _Aggressor_  had shared, shadows of the children he had shared it with running about, frozen forever in childhood.

They did not speak, they couldn’t, but they understood each other all the same. Hux never asked after the outside world, it didn’t really matter, not in these dreams where he lay with his head on Kylo’s lap, staring up as a blue sky was painted scarlet red in a sunset.

He had no idea how long it had been, but once, when Kylo came and brought with him a dream, there was noise. They were by a canal in a city built on islands, and the splash of the water was a surprise. When Kylo came, crossing over a bridge, Hux held his breath, awaiting the voice of his errant knight brought back to him.

“Bren,” he greeted, and Bren immediately went to kiss him fiercely.

“Kylo,” he whispered when they parted, barely more than hair’s breadth, just glad to hear that voice again.

“You can hear.”

Bren nodded, and let Kylo go immediately, looking at him and saying, “I kept being so _sure_ of things in Snoke’s cave, and even before it. Was that you?”

“I told you once before, I cannot cast my mind away from yours. I was the first apprentice, I knew Snoke more than any of the others, I knew what he would and would not do. Bren, you…I was in a state worse than your coma. When I’m gone, you don’t dream. You just are. I was conscious, I could tell I was withering, but I couldn’t perceive anything. I…I think I might have gone mad, if I had been left there. And then your ship came close, entered orbit. And there you were. You were the first thing I heard since my hearing was taken from me, yes. But I knew you were there long before that.”

They sat nearby where the water splashed, just listening to it and sitting side by side. They had spent so long with only images, not sounds, that speaking now wasn’t necessary.

It was two dreams later, when they walked through the mountain pastures Bren remembered from Obsi’s mind (“It’s called an alm, I think,” Kylo had said), that he spoke and said, “You’re very calm about the fact I’m in a coma.”

“It’s because I can visit you,” explained Kylo. “Your mother is distraught over it.”

“My mother?”

“Your parents were brought on board for their own safety, after the attempt on your father’s life.”

Bren turned then, eyes wide, and this was the second time he had ever thought of the world beyond these dreams, but this wasn’t asking Kylo if he had been with him in the caves. An attempt had been made on his father’s life, and they were on the ship. He had forgotten he was on a ship. His mother was distraught? She had seemed so changed at the public funeral, he didn’t want to distress her more.

The dream fragmented then, Kylo’s hands fading with the alm and leaving him to sink into the nothingness where he could worry no more.

He had no perception of time, no thought of how long between dreams it was, and emotions did not last through the coma. It took all from him, and even when the dreams faded it was never a loss. But Kylo was apparently very aware of the amount of time, because when they were in his parents’ home on Al Ŝimo, Kylo embraced him, kissed him again and again, as though he had to be sure that he was not a dream. How curious, of course he was.

“I hurt you,” he said by way of explanation. “The last time I came to see you. I spoke of the world outside, you were trying to wake yourself up but you couldn’t. I was told if I did anything like I did again, it could harm you.”

“I’m alright,” said Bren, blinking. He didn’t feel distressed or harmed. Kylo didn’t look calmed, and in the way dreams were, they were seated in the parlor, hot tea in front of them. Kylo didn’t touch his, but Bren’s mother always had said there was nothing to soothe the soul like hot tea and it seemed like he needed it.

And once Kylo brought a dream into the nothingness, one where Bren lay in a bed in the medbay while Kylo sat beside him. He looked upset. “I’ve been declared as recovered as I’ll ever be,” he said. “I’m to take iron tablets the rest of my life. My blood’s too thin.”

“That’s not too bad,” said Bren.

“He’s dead, and he still leaves his mark on me.” He wasn’t sure what to say to that, and so he simply took Kylo’s hand in his. “And you’re still comatose.” Bren nodded. There wasn’t much he could do to change that. “You can laugh at me for this, _I_ want to laugh at me for this, but there’s…there’s stories, in the Republic. I don’t know if you’d have the same ones. There’s lovers, and one of them’s trapped in an evil spell that makes them sleep forever, unless the other one can give them the kiss of true love, and that fixes everything.”

“Those stories are older than anything. I’ve heard them. Did you try and kiss me awake?”

“No, but I almost wanted to.”

They didn’t talk about the outside world. It held no weight, no meaning, except when it did. Bren knew well what Kylo had undergone, and squeezed Kylo’s hand before he said, “I’m glad that the only lasting mark is needing iron tablets. I’m glad you’re so recovered.” There was something in that recovery time that should tell him something about his coma, but he couldn’t think what.

“I wish you were recovered too. Dr. Mabuse says that things are going well enough, that you aren’t showing any signs of degrading.”

“That’s always a comfort.”

“I need you, Bren. I need you out there.”

“I don’t know if I can wake up yet.”

“Maybe I should stop coming. I should leave you be, let your brain recover without dreams interrupting.”

“I can’t tell how long you’re away. You could stay away a year and I don’t think I’d notice.”

“You’re not allowed to stay comatose that long.”

“Alright, I’ll try not to be.”

“I’ll find a way to wake you up if you’re still like this in a year,” warned Kylo.

“Just don’t try and kiss me awake, for all our sakes.”

And soon after, the dream faded back into perfect unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t remember waking up the first time, not really. He just remembered someone at his side, their voice too loud. He fell back into darkness moments later, escaping it. The next time it was quiet, and he opened his eyes but couldn’t focus them. He blinked a few times, trying, before giving up and closing them again, going back to sleep. The third and fourth times were similar, except the fourth time there was a figure in a chair next to him, but it seemed they were asleep there, and he thought that looked lovely, and fell to sleep again, following their example.

It was the fifth time he opened his eyes that he saw his mother there, she was holding one of his hands in hers while the other was curled loosely on his chest. “…ol darling,” she was saying, voice low and choked with tears. “Can you stay awake, love?”

His eyes still had trouble focusing, but eventually he could discern her face and blinked in surprise to see that there were tears on her face, sliding around such a smile as he was almost sure he had never seen on her face before. He opened his mouth, making to speak, but found there was tubing. He jolted to feel it, and his mother squeezed his hand and said, “The Doctor insisted on it, I’ve called her, we’ll get it out now that you can breathe on your own.”

Moments later, a doctor, a woman who looked as if she had just been woken and summoned from her bed, appeared. She immediately changed something in the drip going into his body, and he felt complete numbness spread through him. “Close your eyes, Brendol darling,” his mother was saying. “Close your eyes, it’ll be better that way.”

He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he trusted his mother, and did as she bid, even as he didn’t really want to go back to sleep. He wanted to ask her what was happening. He was entirely numb, but he did figure it out the tubing was coming out, when he took a breath and didn’t feel as though he couldn’t even as his chest rose and fell. His mother prompted him to open his eyes again, and almost immediately a light was shined into them. He wanted to close his eyes and turn away, but it was the doctor doing the shining so he knew better than to do so. “Do you remember your name?” the Doctor asked, a pad in hand.

He nodded, and made to say it, but the numbness had been designed to pull out the intubation, and speaking was impossible, he couldn’t feel his tongue or lips. The doctor seemed to notice that and said, “You can just nod and shake your head, at least until you can talk again. Do you know your name?” he nodded. “How old are you? Are you thirty three?” he shook his head, but hesitantly. “Are you thirty four?” he nodded, but she still asked “Are you thirty five?” he shook his head, but again hesitantly, now uncertain. “What time of day is it? Is it morning?” He looked around, and nodded, but she insisted on asking if it was midday or evening.

“What is this place? Is it your home?” no. “Is it a hospital?” yes. “What is the name of this place? Is it the Finalizer?” he gave no response. “Is it the Aggressor?” he almost wanted to nod, but held his silence. “Is it the Eclipse?” and he was frustrated, and looked away. His mother looked saddned, and he closed his eyes, not wanting to see her disappointed that he couldn’t answer such simple questions. “Are you tired?” Now he shook his head. “Alright. I’m going to show you some pictures now.”

They should have been simple tests, and he should know the answers, but sometimes he faltered all the same, and it was a spike of shame when he didn’t. She asked if he had seen her before, and he had to shake his head no, and then if he knew her name, and when he faltered, she prompted, “Is my name Thea, Therese, or Theodosia?” and he just shook his head, uncertain.

He was realizing how little he knew, and it was terrifying. He didn’t remember many things, and suddenly there was a pressure in his head, and he winced, free hand jolting up to it, before the pressure immediately eased. Only at that did the doctor’s face pinch, though it smoothed mere moments after. His mother was still holding his hand, and when it was clear it was his head that hurt, she moved to stroke his hair, pressing a kiss to his brow, and it only confused him more. He didn’t remember her ever being like this.

A few other tests were done, and finally he wasn’t being poked and prodded and he could feel his mother’s hand on his. Whatever had numbed him must have been wearing off. He flexed his fingers in his mother’s hand, and she squeezed back, smiling at him. And then the doctor spoke, saying, “My name is Dr. Thea Mabuse, I have been your primary physician for the past two years. We are on the Finalizer. I need you to try and remember those pictures I showed you, I’ll ask you tomorrow what they were, so I can see how your memory is.” He must have looked blank, because she elaborated, “You have just woken from an induced coma to let your brain heal from damage done to it.”

“I don’t,” he whispered, voice horribly raw. His mother offered him chips of ice, which melted on his lips, soothing his mouth and throat.

“It’s perfectly normal that you’re confused and having trouble remembering,” assured Dr. Mabuse. “It’s well documented in coma patients, it’s called Post Traumatic Amnesia, or Post Traumatic Confusional State. Your memories will return, perhaps not all at once, but they will. What happened directly after the incident that caused you brain damage might never return, and you deserve to be warned of this, but your trauma was not…traditional, so we cannot be certain.” His eyes were starting to droop, and she said, “Feel free to go back to sleep. Your body knows how to recover, don’t stay awake for our sakes.”

“Go to sleep, Brendol darling,” said his mother, pressing another kiss to his brow. “You’ve done a lot of hard work just now.” It had mostly been lifting his arms and legs, but it felt like he had been asked to move a whole mountain, and he let his eyes fall shut. He didn’t fall asleep immediately, but it seemed he had in the past, because Dr. Mabuse said the moment his eyes were closed, her voice not careful as it had been,

“I’m going to have a talk with those satellites of his.” He heard no more, falling into sleep, a whisper of a thought forming, wondering what she was talking about.

The next time he woke, the room was dark, and there was a figure asleep in the chair. He turned his head, and blinked, his eyes gummy and unwilling to focus. It was his father, he saw. He looked old and tired in that moment, and last he had known, his father would not have sat sleeping beside his son’s sickbed. He looked incredibly uncomfortable, and then he realized that his father was holding his hand. Just barely, his own hand limp in sleep, but there was no mistaking what had happened. He had a memory, drinking tea with his mother, and listening to her claim that his father _was_ capable of love, he just had a hard time showing it. It conflicted with a lot of what he knew to be true, but it was…nice to have his father sitting at his side. He didn’t pull his hand away when he fell back to sleep, and that was about as good as it would get.

 

* * *

 

The next time he was awake for any length of time, he was fed and bathed (and that was a humiliating experience and he was glad it was a low-sentience droid handling that), and then the Doctor came back, pad in hand. She greeted him and asked, “Do you know your name?”

“Brendol Hux Jr,” he replied, his voice still rough, but not painful.

“How old are you?”

“I am thirty four years old.”

“What time of day is it?”

“…Afternoon.”

“What is the name of this place?”

“It…it’s a medbay.”

“A medbay on?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Is it the Aggressor, the Finalizer, or the Eclipse?”

“I…” he paused for a long time before he said cautiously, “the Eclipse?”

She gave no reaction, and merely asked, “Have you seen my face before?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know my name?” He faltered, and could give no answer. “Is my name Theodosia, Therese, or Thea?”

“Therese,” he answered, he remembered that name, so it must be that.

“Alright, do you remember I showed you pictures yesterday?”

“I…sort of.”

She asked him to identify which pictures she had showed him, and he was mostly sure it was the flower, the square, and the cup. After a few more questions, showing him more pictures notes were made and she said, “My name is Dr. Thea Mabuse. You managed to remember me, your name, and two of the three pictures. It is morning now, we are in a medbay on the Finalizer. Don’t feel bad, you are still recovering from a coma, it’s very common for memories to be weak. I need to do some physical tests now, if you don’t mind.”

“Are you going to ask me those questions every time I wake up?” he finally asked.

“Just about,” she said, giving a wry smile. “Your parents will be by soon, they’re very anxious to see how you’re recovering.”

And so it went, he would sleep and wake and his parents would be there, or the doctor would be asking him the same questions time and time again, telling him what he got wrong, and never seeming disappointed when he kept getting the ship’s name wrong.

Every so often he got headaches, and when he expressed that, Dr. Mabuse would ask very swiftly to describe exactly the sort of pain he was feeling, and only if it was a certain kind would she offer him a painkiller. If not, she would assure it would go away, and he figured he didn’t know enough about how a brain recovered from trauma and subsequent coma to know the recovery process.

And once he got every question right a few days in a row, then he had an official meeting with Dr. Mabuse and his parents, as the ones who had made decisions for him while he was comatose. It was there that Dr. Mabuse finally informed him that he had been in his coma for six months. Six months of lying useless and unconscious and now that he was awake, he couldn’t remember anything. Six months of his life, gone. He had been told that he had consented to inducing the coma, but it was different on the other side, and his breath sped.

His father spoke then, barely glancing at him, “It might be worse. We thought you wouldn’t ever wake, for a time.”

That was hardly reassuring, but Dr. Mabuse nodded and said, “Around two and a half months in, you stopped being able to breathe on your own and you were given a ventilator. There was concern that you had been without oxygen for too long, and for a time we thought you would never wake.”

He thought he remembered something like that. In a dream. He had been loved in his dreams, by someone who wanted nothing more than to stay beside him. They had told him something like that. He didn’t say it though, it sounded foolish.

“As it is, your recovery looks very possible,” Dr. Mabuse was continuing. “Your memory is starting to function as it should again, and you received no pressure ulcers, which would be the usual fear.” She laid out the physical therapy plan to get him able to walk again, six months without motion had left his muscles absolutely useless, and it would be no small task to get it back to working order. They would begin that afternoon.

Physical therapy, it turned out, included practicing balancing and sitting up on his own and flexing his joints, which had grown stiff from six months ( _six months!_ ) of inactivity. The muscle they would rebuild once he could do those things. Intellectually, they felt like simple, stupid tasks, but they were monumentally exhausting, and he was often trembling as he was prompted to sit up one last time.

Even as he focused on trying to get better physically, he felt wrong, like he should be remembering something huge, but it just wasn’t there. Something was missing, but he wasn’t sure what.

 

* * *

 

 

He woke, but he didn’t move, he was still exhausted from his last physical therapy, but Dr. Mabuse had told him that the fact that he was sleeping less (it didn’t _feel_ like less) was a good sign. Laying with his eyes closed, he became aware of his mother reading at his side, and when he bothered to focus on what she was saying, he would have smiled had he not fallen back to sleep far too soon.

“J’lean metal sculptures were always melted down in wartime to make weapons, excepting statues of the gods, for fear that desecrating their images would bring down their wrath,” his mother was reading. “These statues, however, were always miniatures. It was believed, generally, that if they were made with the understanding that these were only miniatures and did not seek to represent the gods in any true way, then they would not give offense.”

He dreamed he was on a mountain, walking through a pasture filled with livestock. He wasn’t the shepherd though, they were sitting some ways away. The sky was pale lavender, and it was brisk and pleasant on the mountain. There was a bush covered in heavy black berries nearby, and when he went to pick one and eat it, he saw a figure sitting on the edge of a cliff, legs hanging over the edge. But he knew, somehow, that this figure was not going to jump, that they were safe, so he turned back to the bush.

The mountain fractured and he was in Benau, and had to deliver a painting, and when he woke next, both dreams slid out of his mind seamlessly. He opened his eyes this time, and he was alone now. He lay there, wishing someone was there for him to talk to, or that his mother was there even if she was only reading. It was awful being alone, but a private room was his due as General.

He startled, and only managed to get halfway to sitting before he fell back (his physical therapist would be proud) and scrambled to press the comm button that would summon Dr. Mabuse or one of her colleagues. He had remembered something, and they had told him to call one of them when he did.

It was a doctor he didn’t recognize who came, and he felt like a fool when he said, “I remembered my rank.”

“That’s very good, sir,” the doctor praised, taking his records and making a note.

“I’m a General. I’m the General of the Finalizer. I’m on High Command.”

It was called an “island of memory” it seemed, when he could recount his promotion ceremony with confidence but faltered with what happened directly afterwards. But it was one of the first signs of long-term memory returning to him, of his Post Traumatic Amnesia going away. And now he was angry. No one had told him that he should be running a _nation_ they had let him think the most pressing issue was being able to sit up. He hadn’t just lost six months of his life to a coma, he had _abandoned his nation_ for six months.

When his parents came, his mother looking overjoyed that he had remembered something, he just asked, “Why did you keep my rank from me?”

“We discussed it, you were struggling to remember so many things and you seemed distressed about it,” his mother told him, moving to take his hand as she had so many times. He kept his hands firmly out of her grip. “We didn’t want to burden you.”

“You can barely sit up and you wanted to take on all your duties?” added his father, and his mother actually shot him a very cross look. That was new, and his father _actually_ _amended_ , “We wanted you to recover at your own pace, not try and force yourself to do more than you could. It would only hurt you in the long run.”

“There’s more you’re keeping from me, isn’t there?” he asked, looking between the two.

“Of course,” agreed his father. “But it _is_ for your own wellbeing that we aren’t telling you.”

“You’ll remember, in time,” added his mother. It didn’t feel like a reassurance.

 

* * *

 

When he remembered that there was probably still a war on, it culminated in a panic attack. The nurse droids had to start humming at the frequency of a cat’s purr to try and induce calm subconsciously while Dr. Mabuse had to hold his hand on his own pulse and instruct him to breathe, before giving in and giving him a sedative. It was good that he had a private room, he thought.

When he was calm, she had General Yhen come, and he gave what was no doubt a heavily redacted report, keeping plenty more information from him. “The loyalists mostly work in small cells. It’s exactly what happened when Ita Tallman was out of power, his followers tried to carve out their own power,” Yhen told him.

“Tallman’s right hand held sixty people hostage so he could escape,” said Hux.

“Yes, and fifty nine of them returned home in the end. You need to focus on physical recovery, your brain damage was bad enough to induce a coma. If you hear an alarm, there is reason to panic. If you don’t, assume things are going as they should.”

“Yhen, how much did Dr. Mabuse say you had to smooth things over for me?” In the corner, the doctor in question sighed to hear it.

“Hux, you only were able to reliably maintain memories a few days ago. Yes there’s a war, but you physically cannot command right now. High Command managed a war against not a single force but two dozen. They are all loyalists to Snoke, it’s different than two dozen war lords and their followers.”

“When do we move against Snoke himself?”

“Generals, one of you still is recovering from a coma, I will thank you not to make my medbay into a war meeting,” interrupted Dr. Mabuse.

It was a few hours later, when he was practicing balance that he closed his eyes and said, “I had to go into the coma because of Snoke. We killed him, he played with my brain and tried to kill me.”

“Yes, General, he did,” said Dr. Mabuse, the physical therapist still hovering nearby.

“I forgot.”

“That isn’t uncommon.”

“I remembered the war but not that we killed the man in charge!”

“General, human minds are complex. For all that we can reliably heal nearly every physical ailment, we have yet to fully understand the human brain, let alone any other species’. You’re remembering, and honestly we’re lucky you remembered it is a civil war and not the old wars. With limited memory and your parents being here, the conclusion you drew might have been radically different. Everyone you listed as being able to make decisions while you were comatose understands what you challenges you face, and will not begrudge you taking your time.”

“Nearly everyone,” muttered the physical therapist, and Dr. Mabuse gave him such a withering look.

“ _Everyone,_ ” she repeated. “I know you’re frustrated that people are keeping things from you, but your brain needs to recover.”

He didn’t speak, just continued the therapy without saying another word, working until he was trembling and both doctors had to tell him to stop before he severely hurt himself. They let him lay in bed afterwards, eyes closed but not asleep, berating himself for the foolish mistake. And he was still there when his mother came.

“I was told you remembered the war,” she said.

“But not that Snoke is dead or that he’s the one who did this to me.”

“Dr. Mabuse did warn that you might never remember what happened directly after the trauma, and since we can’t be sure which attack gave you the trauma, I’m not surprised.” He still didn’t open his eyes, and she bent to kiss his brow before settling next to him.

“Why are you like this? You were never like this,” he said, finally looking at her. “And Father listens to you now…”

“Brendol Darling, when your only child has to be induced into a coma because he was viciously attacked just months after you thought you lost him the first time, you learn to treasure every second you have with him and you try very consciously to show that.”

“What happened a few months ago?” he asked. He had nearly died once before?

Mathilde sighed and shook her head and said, “I can’t tell you.”

“I know, they want me to remember on my own.”

“You’re remembering at a very good pace, if you show signs of stagnating we can remind you.”

He closed his eyes again, the only way he could actually disengage from the conversation. He didn’t _feel_ like himself, like something was missing or wrong and that was probably the brain damage, but it felt like there was something very important he had forgotten and having people admit they were keeping things from him did not help.

Eventually his mother gave a short huff, and moments later began to read aloud to him. “In what would later be called the end of the imperial age, the J’lean Empire was filled with mystery religions. It had happened in previous times of crisis, but as the Empire fell, more religions than ever appeared. True to their names, their symbolism is generally obscure, but there survives a few liturgical texts. Among these is the ‘attraction spell’ which belonged the Nra religion. Nraism itself was, as best as can be found, a religion that based itself on dreams, and the attraction spell was meant to summon dreams and visions.”

She got halfway through when Hux suddenly and viscerally remembered. This was one of the articles Dr. Riil had recommended him. Dr. Riil, he remembered her, her thin voice, her tangents. This was one of the articles he had read when he had sent Kylo from his side. _Kylo._

“Darling?” his mother was asking, sounding concerned.

“Kylo Ren,” he said. “I forgot all about him. He’s alive? We got him out of the caves?”

She looked pleased and said, smiling, “Yes, darling, he’s alive. He’s as recovered as he’s ever going to be, they say. He’s been wanting to come see you, but until you remembered we thought it best that he stay away.” She gave an amused sigh and said, “I suppose there’s nothing for it now, he’s going to come bursting in first chance he gets.”

Hux just nodded vaguely. He somewhat remembered the J’leans, but how could he have forgotten Dr. Riil, he had liked her and respected her so much longer than he had Kylo, and how could he forget _Kylo?_ The man he had started a war for? He let himself be quizzed and checked over by Dr. Mabuse, recounting he remembered both Kylo and Dr. Riil of Landan University on Yvinia while his mother had been reading to him. Thankfully Dr. Mabuse didn’t question why he remembered two very different people, apparently the mysteries of the human brain were answer enough.

It was an hour later that Kylo himself actually came, and it was a good thing they were alone because the first thing his impossible knight did was climb right onto the bed and kiss him. Which was good, because that had been the first thing on Hux’s agenda as well. It was different in real life instead of a dream, things weren’t smooth and impossibly easy, but it was all the better for it.

When they separated, Hux just started near giggling and hid his face in Kylo’s shoulder. “You’re nearly bald,” he finally managed.

“Radiation does that, I’ve been told,” said Kylo, whose hair was indeed barely longer than an inch or two. “I wanted to come see you the second I was told you were awake, but they said only your parents could come until you remembered us. Something about nontraditional brain damage?”

“I remembered the war, but I thought Snoke still lived. I knew we were fighting him but not why, Kylo I’m sorry it took so long for me to remember you.”

“You knew me in your dreams, at least you didn’t forget me when I came to see you.”

He was still just getting at ease with his joints, and it would be generous to say he had any musculature at all, but it was enough for him to lay on his side, kissing Kylo with urgency or fondness depending, and talking. “Is there anything big left to remember?” he finally asked. “I remembered the war, Snoke’s death, _you,_ Dr. Riil…”

“There’s a few more things,” said Kylo. “Dr. Mabuse has made it very clear that because I’ve never attended medical school I am not allowed to make any decisions about what to tell you on my own.”

“I hate having things kept secret from me.”

“I know you do. But you went through hell to save me, the least I can do is not kill you in return.”

“I’m not in a coma anymore, I’m not about to stop breathing because you tell me…” he trailed off then, and said, “Someone tried to kill Father.”

 “ _Tried_. Your father’s alive and has been actively consulting with the war.”

“And no one else will tell me. What happened?”

Kylo just looked at him a long time before he said, “A loyalist broke into your parents’ home. They had installed a silent alarm, so they were awake by the time she got to them, but she had a knife and meant to stab your father, your mother too if she could manage it. She only got him in the leg, your father got her restrained until they could be extracted onto the Finalizer. She’s in a detention cell now.”

“Awaiting trial?”

“High Command doesn’t want to make a martyr for the Loyalist cause. After the war’s won. Or if we need to exchange prisoners.”

Hux nodded, and tried not to over worry. He placed his hand over Kylo’s pulse point, and just felt it, closed his eyes and felt life thrumming in the veins of the man before him. For all that kissing blood had become their watchword, he was glad it was inside, where it belonged, even if it was too thin. “Have you been taking your iron pills?” he asked, not opening his eyes.

“The first time I’m physically with you, and all you want to talk about is the war and if I’ve been taking pills,” groused Kylo, and Hux was realizing that Kylo hadn’t ever _groused_ before, that this must be from being free of Snoke.

“I _started a war_ over you, Kylo. I want to make sure you live to see the end of it, at least.”

Kylo frowned, he could tell even with his eyes closed, but he said, “I have been taking my pills. Not as much as I should, though. I’ve fainted a couple times.”

“Usually that’s enough to make people _want_ to take their pills more.”

“I don’t like pills.” Hux opened his eyes at that and just looked at Kylo, until the Knight adjusted himself to press his brow to Hux’s collarbone and expanded, “I don’t know what’s going into them. I don’t know how they’re made. There’s foods I won’t eat because I don’t know how they’re made, I don’t know what they’re supposed to taste like, I can’t tell if someone’s trying to poison me or drug me when I eat them. It’s worse with pills.” He gave a rough exhalation that didn’t deserve to be called a sigh. “That must sound like paranoia.”

“That’s because it _is,_ ” said Hux. “But given who you are, that’s learned paranoia. It’s probably something that’s kept you alive.”

“But I shouldn’t be paranoid around you, I don’t need to be. You said it yourself, you started a war over me.”

“That’s not something that you can choose to turn off.” Kylo said nothing, and instead put a hand on Hux’s waist. In turn, Hux pressed his forehead against the top of Kylo’s head and said nothing more, glad to be so close to his impossible knight.

When he woke, he hadn’t realized he had been asleep, and tucked his face closer to Kylo’s too-short hair. And then he could have sworn he heard something in the room. Eyes suddenly wide open, he jolted, looking around and seeing his mother there. Something inside him shriveled.

“Don’t worry, Brendol darling, I won’t say a word,” she said. “Your knight isn’t exactly subtle, anyway.”

“You knew?” he asked.

“Only once you woke up, before you remembered him. He wasn’t very subtle when he asked after you every single time I left visiting you. The others too, but him least of all.”

“He’s never learned it, no,” agreed Hux. “And apparently neither have I.” Mathilde only hummed her question, didn’t actually give voice to it. “I started a war for him, mother.”

“You didn’t. You started a war that now that we’ve had time to stop and look around probably needed starting. He was just your investment. It’s better than what some other wars were started over, but I expect you’ve read on dozens of those now.”

“Wars started for love are only in poems and stories.”

Mathilde stood then, and brushed back his hair as she said, “All our lives are stories, in the end. Yours are just closer to your studies, now.” Hux said nothing, and she nodded, warning, “High Command wants you in a war meeting in a few hours. They know you can’t stand yet, they’ll have you in a wheelchair, but I’d suggest you wake up your man by then.”

Patting his arm, she took her leave, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t been lying in wait to have that conversation. She had essentially given her approval, hadn’t she? He turned back to Kylo and prodded the knot of scar tissue on his side. It might have killed him. Looking at how he nearly _did_ die, such a straightforward wound was preferable.

Kylo might have slept through Mathilde’s visit and their short conversation, but touching him made him jerk upright and his hand go out for a lightsaber that wasn’t in hand’s reach anymore. His eyes were sharp and alert immediately, looking through the whole room before landing on Hux again and slumping. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“My mother was just here,” said Hux instead, and Kylo looked marginally ashamed of himself.

“I probably could have been a bit more discrete.”

“She didn’t seem to mind. But apparently I’m to a war meeting in a few hours. And while my mother is one thing, High Command is another.” Kylo nodded, and didn’t look happy to have to leave him again. Hux forced himself to sit up, and managed to keep his balance and everything, long enough to reach out with a too weak arm and insist Kylo kiss him again. “It’s not as though I’m going to forget you again,” he said when they separated. “I don’t plan on any more brain trauma. Come see me in my dreams if nothing else.”

“I have to meditate to do that…” said Kylo.

“Good. You’re less awful when you do.” Kylo frowned at him, and Hux had a feeling he’d really enjoy exploring what about his impossible knight was different now that Snoke wasn’t there to deny him the necessities of life and the basics of emotion from the Knights of Ren.

 

* * *

 

Pushed in a wheelchair by Dr. Mabuse to a war meeting was a surreal experience. People whose faces he only barely recognized and some he absolutely didn’t saluted him as he was pushed past, and the fact that he was confined to a wheelchair because he could still only barely keep his balance and sit upright on his own power was apparently not worth commenting on. Which was a relief, honestly.

When they arrived at the war meeting, Hux was the last to arrive, and when Dr. Mabuse wheeled him in, the others all saluted him. He saluted back, but it was hardly as crisp as usual. He had been injured in the line of duty, no wonder they saluted him.

Immediately they dove into the war. By now Loyalists were mere pockets, but they could not just wipe them out, because the New Republic was creeping in at their borders and they had to keep a not insubstantial number of forces out at the border to keep them out. The Resistance was fluttering around their protective fleet like insects, apparently they wanted to go rip apart the already war torn nation and did dart out to sting what they could.

“The war needs to be won and _now,_ ” said Xiu. “The Stormtroopers–” he cut off when Dr. Mabuse coughed significantly from behind Hux, and he wondered what exactly had happened to the Stormtroopers he hadn’t remembered yet. “Our soldiers are strong in number and willing, but the Loyalists aren’t exactly on a single base that we can storm. And we have no way of knowing whether or not the New Republic is going to make more of a war than quietly taking our borders.”

“What’s worse is the public opinion,” said Yhen. “High Command put Snoke in charge, there’s only so much our going to war against him is doing. Certainly, they praise us for his execution, they praise us for saving the Knights. But right now, Hux, it’s you that the nation is rallying behind. We need you involved in this war.”

Hux blinked at that, and clearly it was obvious how much he hadn’t been expecting that, as Delan said, “We made it known that Snoke rendered you comatose, but we kept a secret where you were being treated. You were in a coma after saving the Knights at the cost of your own health. You didn’t promote Snoke, you weren’t a General then. The people have taken you up as something of a symbol. If you start partaking in this war, it might just end it. All wars need a figurehead.”

“In the interest of complete honesty,” said Hux, “I can barely sit up on my own and keeping my balance when I do is still something of a struggle. I can’t exactly lead a war.”

“We don’t want you on the front lines, but we just want people to know that you’re back.”

If it was a matter of having his name attached to it, thought Hux, then surely they could just _lie_ about it. But, he supposed, actually being seen by his men meant something. They’d probably write home to talk about how the General was awake again, and though he could not stand he still did all he could. It wasn’t a bad plan, he could admit.

“And besides, you could be lying down, so long as you can think of strategies,” added Sen. He looked run ragged, and he wondered if he wasn’t the one trying to hold the borders.

“I will do what I can,” he promised. And just like that, they dove into where the Loyalists were, how the battles had gone in the past, Sen was relaying that the Resistance was apparently operating without permission from the New Republic fleet but who knew whether or not that was actually true and they had managed to cause damage to a number of ships. It was almost a siege, keep drawing ships out to the border, let them tear themselves apart on the inside, as easy to conquer as a starved enemy force.

Yhen was commanding the _Finalizer_ while Hux had been comatose, and now that he was awake he was nominally in charge, though Dr. Mabuse insisted that he not actually _do_ any of the leading. He still had to get any semblance of musculature back, she insisted. Hux did, however, receive permission to write battle plans and supervise from the bridge.

And so he took over rooting out the loyalists on Sfera. He was given every piece of information they had about it, and at Dr. Mabuse’s insistence it was in an actual physical print format, but at least she didn’t require it to be in large type.

He was allowed back into his own rooms again, his physical therapist would come up there to do sessions with him, and the wheelchair was required. If he had to push it physically he probably would have preferred bedrest just to keep from being so aware of how weak he was. His mother, the only civilian on the entire ship, had taken to helping him in and out of the chair to his bed in the mornings and evenings, but she usually retreated when he started working on battle plans. It took two days before Kylo started appearing while he was working. It was so viscerally familiar that Hux found himself forgetting he was bound to his chair and tried sometimes to stand up to pace as he thought.

“I could push you, if it would help,” offered Kylo, bent over a datapad, typing furiously at it.

“Do not even think of trying,” snapped Hux, flexing his hands. He wanted so badly to pace but that wasn’t _physically possible._ The exercizes for his atrophied leg muscles were humiliatingly simple and if that was the extent of his abilities, he wasn’t foolish enough to try and stand except for when he did it unconsciously.

The muted thumping noises of how Kylo was stabbing at his datapad fell silent. And then they started up again, but slower. And then Kylo said, voice uncertain, “Dr. Mabuse told us that she’s surprised you didn’t fall into a coma naturally, that one had to be induced. You kept yourself conscious longer than you should have been able to. You should think about that, more than that you can’t walk.”

“That sounds alarmingly like something a therapist would say,” he said, finally turning to Kylo.

“It’s something your mother’s said.”

“You’ve been talking to my mother?”

Kylo shrugged, and said, “All of us have. She’s the one who was always sitting with you before you remembered, and even once you did remember us, they still wouldn’t let us all in. So we had to talk to her to ask how you were. She’s the one who told me writing would help.”

“Is that what you’re doing?”

“It gets the thoughts out of my head. Or it makes them feel less like they’re my own thoughts. It isn’t coherent, but it helps.” Kylo held out the datapad for him to look at, and it was true, it was disjointed words and phrases, none of them smooth and polished out into even a single sentence and none of them very pleasurable to read.

_Dark dark miss smell decay dark stone miss don’t stars red iron thin radiation stars sick sick death forget forgotten blood blood blood blood_

“As long as it helps,” allowed Hux, before his eyes caught on one word. “Radiation,” he murmured. “You mentioned that, that’s why your hair is so short, you were irradiated that’s why you couldn’t come visit me before we induced the coma…”

His head hurt, and behind his eyes he was careening back through space. _Fading away like stars in the morning, losing their light to the glorious sun._ The pyre, Dev Furcht, Shara and her brother, shrouds, thousands of shrouds, a sea of white, the hospitals, the officer on suicide watch at Gevherhan Valide on Morpila. That horrifying wound dealt to Kylo, the explosion, his own pills and injections, the ground cracking open beneath his feet as he ran through snow, hearing the scream of a dying planet and his own pants of breath. Kylo’s too thin blood and his iron pills, that terraforming specialist had that too, Guide Corin giving a sermon over the single Stormtrooper shroud he had honored. His mother looking so relieved to see him, his own quiet wonderings if he should even be alive, all of it tied up in a single word that sat so heavy in his chest he couldn’t breathe.

_“Starkiller,_ ” he gasped, attempting to stand and his legs crumpling underneath him, not a single muscle able to support him. The datapad clattered to the ground just as he did and Kylo near ran to him, helping him back into his chair. “I – I forgot.”

“If it’s any consolation, that’s the last big thing,” said Kylo. “Dr. Mabuse is on her way.”

The doctor arrived and within moments of doing so began to interrogate him about what he remembered. Kylo refused to leave, and apparently Dr. Mabuse didn’t feel like fighting him about it and let him stay. Hux recounted Starkiller, its construction, the checks they had put on the Oscillator because of how important that was, how it had ripped itself apart before it ever fired, how it had killed thousands, the funeral on Morpila, all the personnel suffering from irradiation, how he had had to take pills himself.

“Congratulations, General,” she finally said. “You’re all caught up.”

 

* * *

 

Sfera’s loyalists were rooted out with extreme prejudice, excising them like tumors from healthy flesh, and High Command let him take on another planet. The Stormtroopers, itching for the decommission they had been promised, worked with all the efficiency Hux could have hoped for. And he still worked on humiliatingly simple exercises that were getting easier. Sometimes Kylo was the one to help him, sometimes it was a doctor, sometimes his mother.

He still couldn’t walk, but now the other six Knights began to start approaching, slowly. He remembered them as expressively blank, people with no substance, but now things were slowly changing, it seemed. Khee was the first, and she had always walked with an odd lightness of foot but now she seemed to dash around on the balls of her feet, like an anxious bird. She was beginning to touch a lot more, fleeting and fluttering things that barely made contact before pulling away, but they hadn’t been there before. Mostly on his shoulders, her wide eyes constantly flickering as though to check that it was alright that she was touching him. He kept his face calm and impassive, he didn’t really care one way or another, and it did make her bolder, slightly. She talked only to distract him from the touching, mostly of how amazed she was with medicine and how it could heal so many things she hadn’t even realized were problems now that she had been released from care (more or less) and wasn’t constantly getting poked and prodded.

Tem was the one who chattered away, full to bursting with words, spilling out the way Kylo wrote. Occasionally he’d stop, mutter to himself that he was talking too much again, and more likely than not strike at himself in punishment for it, slapping himself or hitting his fist against his head or biting his own arm. When that happened, it fell to Hux to say his name very firmly, and his hands would fly flat against his thighs a long moment before he began to chatter again as if it hadn’t happened at all. It was bravado, a sort of “if I don’t acknowledge it you’ll be too scared to, that way I don’t have to deal with it.” Why Tem had chosen him as a soundboard to just chatter away at, he didn’t know. If his hands weren’t hurting himself, they fiddled with anything he could grasp, what had been his trigger finger obsessively stroking at whatever got into his hand, oftentimes his other hand until tiny balls of rubbed off skin formed under it. The only time they were still was when they were flat on his thighs.

Those two were with him most often, their quirks were things he could pretty easily ignore or handle while doing his work. He could let Khee occasionally rest her hand for a heartbeat somewhere between his elbow and shoulder and he could tell when Tem was going to hurt himself. They only came if he was alone, which wasn’t all that often. If he wasn’t in a war meeting he was on the bridge or he was in physical therapy or some other demand on his time. The civil war was dragging on long enough that the Republic creeping in managed to separate them from an entire system. Peninnah Ren was the one who told him that, nearly shouting at him that they were his to command now, they could push back the Republic and the Resistance and take it back. She was insistent, bursting into a war meeting and shouting at everyone to just _point them_ and _have them strike._

“My lady, are you even _armed?_ ” asked Commandant Hux, who blinked when she actually hissed at him like an angry cat.

“Our weapons were brought up,” she insisted. “Give us our weapons, set us on them, that system will be ours again.”

“Khee told me just a few days ago that you were all night blind not too long ago,” said General Hux, clinging to that identity and not letting himself become his father’s son again, not in a war meeting. “I will not give permission.”

“ _You_ lead us! _Use us!_ ”

“I am not in the business of using you like Snoke did, the man is dead because of it.” She gave a scream of frustration, and a chair went flying across the room.

Penninah and Obsi insisted on it, being sent to reclaim the system from the Republic, and Quen Tor silently slid into agreement with them, until High Command finally broke and allowed it. Kylo saw them off, pressing his brow against theirs in turn, their hands clasped close. He watched as they left, and stayed antsy the entire time they were gone.

Nova was the one who demanded constant updates, as best as could be given, until she was just allowed to sit next to the communications officer and listen in, a silent shadow that eventually just became part of the room. She slept there unless dragged away, earpiece still in and just listening. It was her who reported aloud to everyone in the entire fleet without saying a single word out loud that the three had succeeded in expelling the Republican forces already on the planet and were coming back. She slept for twelve hours straight after that, Kylo explained that it had been a massive mental strain to tell every single person, thousands of them, about it all at the same time.

“You’re not worried about her?” asked Hux when Kylo told him she had pushed herself so far, looking up from his work to where Kylo was typing his flood of impressions and words to get them out of his head.

“Not really, Nova knows her limits, usually,” Kylo said. “She’s the most like you, sometimes, she thinks things through.”

“And yet somehow you’re my favorite,” muttered Hux. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kylo smile.

When the three returned, there were four Knights awaiting them, and only once they had pressed foreheads with Kylo again, his hands gently clasping the back of their neck and their hand, did the others go to them, Nova grabbing Penninah and embracing her, their faces hidden in each other’s shoulders, dark hair mingling. Khee’s hands fluttered, uncertain if she could touch, and ended up just touching Quen Tor’s face a thousand times. Tem muffled his streaming monologue into Quen Tor’s shoulder while Obsi finally stilled Khee’s hands by holding them against his pulse point. That night Kylo did not join Hux in his bed, rather all seven knights sleeping in the same room together, sharing space again. Their weapons they surrendered again, Penninah’s ribbon swords, Obsi’s massive cleaver sword, and Quen Tor produced all sorts of small explosives, things he warned he mixed himself in his freetime and he wasn’t sure how stable they were so it would probably be best to be very careful when locking them away.

“Why do you expect them to be locked away?” asked Hux.

“You lead us now,” said Penninah as if it was logical. “You never liked it when we walked around your ship armed, so we surrender them to you.”

“They were given to us by Snoke,” added Obsi. “We know you would all rather we did away with them, that’s why they were locked away after being recovered. You were asleep at the time.”

There was just a little too much at that, the idea that he could decide when the Knights were armed and when they were not, that it was now his hand that held them as a scourge. He…didn’t want that. Not after seeing them start uncertainly stumbling towards personhood. Even seeing them retake the system felt wrong, like watching them revert into dolls with grenades at their hearts.

The morning after the Knights returned, his mother came to help him out of bed, though he was getting better at it, and told him in a soft voice that brokered no argument, “You are not going to allow any of those young people out like that again. Not to a battlefield.”

“Mother–” he started.

“You’re not.”

“May I ask why?”

“Those seven young people have been hurt. From since they were children. Their parents weren’t vigilant enough to save their children from what befell them, and I cannot let them be pushed back into that role after being freed of it.” Mathilde took a long breath and touched her son’s cheek and said, “I’m sure they’ve mentioned that they’ve spoken to me. They told me how Snoke took them and all I could think about was how I let a _droid_ raise you instead of doing it myself. If you had been the least bit like them I might have turned around one day and realized you’d been gone too late.”

“Mother…”

“I know, I know, no point in thinking about what couldn’t be, but Brendol Darling, I can’t let it happen again. You’re going to keep them on this ship unless we’re all going to die if they don’t go out.” He looked up at his mother and finally nodded. He could agree to that, and he could probably rationalize it beyond “I promised my mother” to his fellow Generals.

 

* * *

 

 

They stopped at the Pallas system to refuel and resupply, and while there they got news that a Commandant named Admiral for the civil war had turned coat and was firing on the rest of the fleet, a loyalist in charge of a heavily armed dreadnought. There was nothing for it, they’d have to bring it down. The _Finalizer_ , having housed two members of High Command (one comatose until recently) as well as all seven Knights of Ren had skirted around direct conflict on such a scale, but there was nothing for it now, and so they turned.

The _Conqueror_ had plenty of loyalists onboard, and those who weren’t were reportedly crammed into the brigs or locked into rooms. It was like when Ita Tallman’s right hand had made a bid for power in the old wars, keeping people they would hesitate to fire at onboard.

Hux himself had been too young to do anything about that, so he stood back and let the elder generals and his father discuss it. It required overwhelming the ship with too many close targets until every fighter had to leave to defend it, and then it could be boarded. Inside, it would be easy to fight up to the bridge, and once the bridge was taken on a ship, that was that.

It was exactly what they had done to Ita Tallman’s right hand. So, Hux said as much. “Admiral Mayeul is old. He saw the old wars, helped lead them. He’ll recognize the plan.” Also Mayeul had spoken to him like he was a child at the last First Accord, and he was more than happy to come up with a way to destroy him, rather than subdue him for later trial. He took a breath, pushing that away. _Not now._

“There are at least two hundred people on our side on that ship,” said Xiu. “What do you propose instead?”

“I hardly have a plan, but it cannot just be the same as the past. If we just repeat what was once done we’ll find ourselves slain just like Snoke was.”

“It just had to be a dreadnought,” Sen was muttering. “Anything else we could just punch a hole in the hull, cripple it without killing our people, but no. It’s a dreadnought.”

“Thank you for the despair, Sen, very helpful,” said Delan.

“In any case, the Conqueror needs to be boarded and taken,” said Yhen. “We cannot destroy it, not with killing our people. The question is just how we board. We cannot engage in direct combat, we’ll be obliterated if we do.”

“We could use the Knights,” offered Commandant Hux. “Lady Penninah was very insistent about fighting last time.”

“We will not,” said General Hux, his voice tempered steel. “I don’t know if any of you have seen them outside of their fighting, but they are too fragile. If we throw them into battle, they will shatter and who knows where that will leave us.”

“ _Three of them_ got back an entire _system._ _Three,_ ” said Xiu as though Hux had fallen comatose again and missed that. “Seven against a single ship?”

“Do you recall how you learned that they were successful?”

“Lady Nova told us.”

“She told _every member of the military._ At the same time. She passed out for twelve hours afterwards. She overreached herself in a rash shout that she didn’t need to make at all, and she’s the most logical of the lot of them. They are a gamble I will not take individually, together they are worse.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?” asked Delan.

“I don’t know, but it cannot be the same plan again.”

“Everyone on our side on that ship is locked up, and that ship has orbit to planet weapons. We need to bring it to heel.”

“I am _fully_ aware.”

The problem with having six different military strategists in the same room was that all six thought they knew the best plan and it was nearly impossible to come to an agreement. Hux was insistent that the Knights not be used, but there were others who insisted that because they were facing Loyalists it was just about the only option. They were running out of time, and they needed a strategy.

Sen’s muttered despair made sense, because they were outclassed and horribly so. Finally, Yhen blinked a moment and said, “Mayeul almost certainly hasn’t detained his Stormtroopers. Have the Loyalists ever promised decommission?”

“We need to make contact with the Stormtroopers, they can free the officers,” agreed Sen, his muttered despair draining away. “And they can take the bridge.”

“But how do we make contact? Stormtroopers don’t have intership communication,” pointed out Xiu. “It’s our best chance, but how do we do it?”

“Lady Nova told every member of the military about the Lords and Lady Ren’s success,” said Commandant Hux. “Surely speaking only to the Stormtroopers would be easier.”

Eventually it was pressed onto the younger Hux that he would tell the Knights about it, how it was necessary to speak to the Stormtroopers. He agreed because they had less than an hour before they would reach the _Conqueror_ and they needed at least _one_ plan.

He found them in Kylo’s rooms, tangled amongst themselves. Quen Tor was stretched out on the floor, head in Khee’s lap as she just stroked at his hair, eyes distant and looking mildly disassociated from the world around her. Quen Tor in turn had a hand lifted into the air, fingers twitching to something unseen. Nova was hunched over a datapad as though someone was going to take it from her while Obsi leaned on her knee, looking half asleep. When he had entered, Kylo had immediately stood to greet him, disrupting Tem who was braiding Penninah’s hair, short as it was.

Hux had to duck away from an attempt to kiss him hello and said, “High Command has settled on a plan. And we need one of you.”

“Your mother said we wouldn’t have to fight anymore,” said Tem, fingers tightening in Penninah’s hair, though she didn’t so much as twitch.

“That is…half true, still. It is not a fight we need, only communication.”

“What exactly do you mean?” asked Kylo, his eyes strict and hard. “Your mother told us you agreed. And now you’re going back on that promise?”

“ _No._ And for that matter, it was your Knights who pestered _us_ into letting them go out.”

“Don’t,” said Nova, not looking up but frozen, not reading anymore. “Penninah, you pushed them, now they use us.”

“I had to,” snapped Penninah.

“You didn’t. You were attached. Always attached, it’s no wonder Snoke punished you so much, you couldn’t let go.”

“Neither can you!” She was on her feet, and Nova was trembling slightly, but her voice was hard as anything as she said,

“And now you’ve ruined everything.” She moved only to block the fist coming for her, surging to her feet and baring her teeth.

Obsi, disturbed to wakefulness, jumped to his feet and pushed himself between them. Hux moved to try and get between them, but Kylo’s hand was strong on the wheelchair, and it kept him in place. “They’re just fighting.”

“It’s never _just_ fighting, with you,” said Hux.

“It’s different, this isn’t like before.”

“Care to explain?” he asked, watching as Khee blinked herself back, and how her hand stilled and Quen Tor sat up, still looking mostly unconcerned.

“We were apprentices fighting for the regard of our master, before. Enemies and allies in the space of a day. That’s two sisters fighting, now.”

Nova and Penninah were just screaming at each other, sometimes with words sometimes without, and neither tried to get past Obsi to hurt the other again. It was quite a difference from before, when weapons came out and blood was left behind. Still, he cleared his throat and said, “We have less than an hour, can this wait?”

“I don’t want to have to go to war again,” said Khee. “I’ve liked how it’s been. Most of it, anyway.”

“You aren’t fighting. We need to take a ship controlled by Loyalists, but he almost certainly hasn’t done anything to the Stormtroopers. We just need one of you to talk to them, remind them which cause has promised decommission, and let us know if they’re letting the imprisoned officers out.”

Quen Tor hummed, and said something in his circular language, slowly getting to his feet. “He’ll do it,” said Kylo.

_I don’t mind doing it,_ Quen Tor told him, still absurdly gentle with his mind, announcing his presence rather than slipping in unnoticed like he could. _Penninah and Obsi, they’re struggling more than the rest of us, you’re going to have to forgive them._

“You left as well,” reminded Hux, resolutely not flinching for responding out loud to a voice in his head. Not in front of these seven.

_I suppose I did. I have never once claimed to be perfect, though. Call it a relapse, if you want._

“It’s hardly that, is it?” Quen Tor merely gave a twist of a smile, nodding to concede the point, and he would have looked at ease if not for the tense line of his shoulders.

It was only when they turned to the bridge, the other Knights following behind, that Hux registered that Quen Tor had said he didn’t mind doing it, not that he wanted to.

The _Conqueror_ fired on them soon as they arrived, a friendly greeting that slammed up against their shields. The other generals and at least three Admirals were already there, but hovering at a distance, not wanting to draw any more fire. All seven Knights hovered around Hux on the bridge, Kylo’s hand resting on the back of his wheelchair as they looked at the ship in front of them.

“We can still go,” he offered.

“No,” said Hux shortly. “You are staying aboard this ship. They are loyalists and with your history we cannot risk it.”

Tem had his teeth bearing down on the knuckle of his thumb, keeping a torrent of words inside, and Khee’s fluttering hands were touching at his arm in what might be support or what might be warning. Nova crouched without warning, putting her just below Hux and stared at him with her flinty eyes and asked, “If they weren’t loyalists, wouldn’t it make sense to send us?”

“In theory, but not necessarily in practice. This is a situation with too many unknowns.”

“But they’d surrender to us, wouldn’t they?”

“They don’t follow _you,_ only the memory of your dead master. You’re staying on this ship.”

She frowned and looked like she wanted to speak again, until an officer prompted Hux that they were going to speak to Admiral Mayeul. Pushing himself to be beside Yhen, Hux kept his face impassive as the image of Admiral Mayeul appeared. The man wasn’t drunk on whiskey punch like last time Hux had seen him, but it was in no more pleasant a situation.

“Admiral Mayeul, this is Generals Yhen and Hux,” the elder man said. “We recognize you are operating with what you believe best for the Order, but we urge you to stand down, release your held crew, and submit yourself.”

“How was your nap, Hux?” Mayeul asked, ignoring Yhen entirely. “See you’ve finally woken up.”

“Admiral, if you do not follow orders, we will have to engage,” said Hux. “We urge you to obey.”

“This is a _dreadnought._ She was built to outclass a star destroyer.”

“Admiral Mayeul, again, we urge you to stand down,” said Yhen.

“Three times urged and three times denied, Yhen,” said Mayeul, his voice soft now. “You know that means we must engage. I regret it, I do. I respected you. But you killed our Supreme Leader and now I’m in a position to do something about it. Hail to the Supreme Leader.” And with that, he disconnected, and a report came that no less than seven cannons were turning their way.

They were not nearby a star, they were swathed in absolute silence and void and darkness, they only had their instruments to tell them where the cannons were pointing, and the edges of the ship were visible only as the shots fired, and they were likely illuminated the same when it crashed against their shields. This was the worst combat situation, it allowed the pursued ship to slip away into hyperspace if they paused fire even for a moment. The seven cannons fired, and the shields held and immediately they returned fire. It was the same all around, the star destroyers firing on the dreadnought, aware that they weren’t going to hit each other, and making it perilous for even the best pilots to go out.

It would have been only posturing, if Quen Tor wasn’t leaning onto Nova, his eyes shut tight as he cast his mind across the gap of space onto the _Conqueror._ He was speaking to the Stormtroopers, reminding them that High Command had promised to decommission them if they were victorious in the war against Snoke. The Stormtroopers had more humanity in them than the Knights did, so long without reinforcement, unless Mayeul had been reconditioning them to keep them loyal to a dead leader.

“There are six,” said Kylo. “Quen Tor has found six. They heed him. They are taking him up to the bridge now.”

“There are others who cower, but those who help,” said Penninah, her eyes far away. “They let the six pass. They lie and stand in the way, they make formation to hide them and fall away when unneeded.”

“They are going up now,” said Obsi.

“The six call themselves Trips, Halfling, Cut, Cuke, Speed, and Roger-Roger,” said Tem, his thumb falling away. “They will die if they must, they have others they care about, they hope they won’t, but they will. Of course they will, this is the chance to be like the officers they want to be like the officers, to have lives like them, to find out what First Accord is, they know it but they don’t understand the chalk that’s what Cuke is thinking, he’s not single-minded.” And then he bit down on his thumb again, swallowing the torrent of words.

“Their blasters are on, the safety is off, they’re going to do it,” said Khee. “Quen Tor’s with them, he’s steeling them but they hardly need it. They’re so close now.”

“The doors are opening,” whispered Nova. “It’s now or never.”

Their own bridge had gone silent, transfixed by the Knights, how they spoke in synch for Quen Tor, how they were in the moment just as much as the one who was in the minds of these six Stormtroopers. No wonder Nova had insisted she be with the communications officer, an up to date report was wildly useless to her by her standards.

And then the _Conqueror_ stopped firing, and they fell into void and darkness again.

And then a call came in, a man with hair cut only a few inches long. He looked strained but wildly hopeful and said, “This is DM-524. Admiral Mayeul is unconscious and we are taking him into custody. Unfortunately, there were seven fatalities of the loyalists during the firefight. Once we empty the bridge and open the brig, an officer will be contacting you.”

“Roger-Roger,” called Tem. “Well done.” The man blinked in surprise before disappearing.

Four hours later, when the _Conqueror_ ’s stand in commander disconnected and Mayeul was sent to be put in Delan’s brig under her ruthless eye and Hux was released from the whole business of war to sleep, he lay in his bed, experimentally flexing his legs. Quen Tor had shooed everyone away, wanting silence in his mind for a time, so Kylo was with him, asleep with his face pressed into the back of Hux’s neck. He didn’t stir from how Hux bent and unbent his legs.

It was probably from being around the Knights so often, but Hux had a feeling that somehow, something had to give. Something had to change, or they’d be stuck in civil war for ages. High Command represented the leadership of the Exile and the old wars, having a Supreme Leader meant stability and the end of those cold, uncertain, and bloody days. No wonder Loyalists kept appearing and Admirals were turning coat, they were pushing for the old ways everyone celebrated being beyond.

He pointed his toes and flexed them back. They couldn’t have another Supreme Leader. That title was tarnished, and whoever took it would be just as tarnished. They could rule perfectly but the nation would look at them with distrust. Kylo’s arm tightened about his waist, pulling him closer, huffing into his neck. His mother had made him promise not to send out the Knights again, and even with the _Conqueror_ he hadn’t, that had been six Stormtroopers. That was a promise he could keep. If they sent out the Knights, they would solidify themselves as no different than Snoke and the civil war would never end and they’d fight themselves into death, or the Republic would come and simply deliver the death blow.

He drew his knees up and straightened them and felt Kylo breathing against his skin and closed his eyes. He thought about Dowager Empress Sem and how she had spent the majority of her life making up for the ills done by her mad husband. He thought about the enforced peace the J’leans had inside their empire. He thought about how Dr. Riil had encouraged him to read about one of the dominant kingdoms that had sprung up from the warlords after the J’leans collapsed, how they were viewed as monsters by a large portion of the surrounding neighbors but how they grudgingly admitted that within that kingdom there was peace. Legalism and it’s strict codes and lines of order, Confu philosophy and it’s benevolent superior person. He thought about the J’lean gods depicted in miniature not to give offense, he thought about Emperor T’um and how he had tried to merge an empire that had prided itself on its stability to a changing global stage and how the empire had crumbled for its inability to adapt.

Eventually he gave up and let himself fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

Ni’k saw a battle, headed by a Captain, and Hux let himself message Professor Mabun and let out a sigh of relief when the man reported that the battle was far away from him and while many of the masterpieces were stored away for safekeeping the museum was fine as well. It was a production town that was being fought over, for the ammunitions factory. If the Loyalists got the ammunitions factory they’d be a much bigger threat than before.

But Hux was not allowed to do anything about the battles around Ni’k. This was how war worked, he had his own battles to deal with, and somehow he had become recognized as a custodian for the Knights, and he still had physical therapy. He hadn’t yet been awake as long as he had been asleep, after all. So he let himself message Professor Mabun once and then piled the rest of his obligations around him high enough that he might not spend too much time thinking about it. It didn’t work, but he tried.

He did hear that this was something of a last bid, after three days of painstaking gains and losses measured by city blocks. The Loyalists had heard of Mayeul’s defeat and the war seemed to be coming to an end. He just wished they could have made a last stand on a planet he didn’t have deep interest in. He mentioned that to Kylo, who laughed. He hadn’t laughed like that before, open and amused. The Knights had said once that Kylo was allowed the most but also punished the most. It seemed true. He hadn’t changed much since Snoke died, calmer certainly and much less likely to destroy things or hurt people, but those little changes seemed just as big as Tem babbling away.

“Have you been meditating?” he asked suddenly, and Kylo glanced over at him. “You seem calmer.”

“We’ve been meditating together once every few days,” he answered. “We’ve been doing it since you were induced into your coma. There were…there was a lot wrong with us, medically. We were night blind, we had to have bones reset, we had to eat far more food than we were alright with and if we didn’t start meditating to deal with it we probably would have ended up killing someone by accident. Maybe even ourselves. So, meditation.”

“You hated doing it.”

“No, I’ve always quite enjoyed meditation actually. But Snoke…he warned us of addiction. And we believed him. So that I enjoy it became something bad. The others are having a harder time with it, but it’s enough.”

A quiet chime, but a familiar one. High Command would convene, called by Yhen. Hux was wheeled there by Kylo, reading the thousand and one different messages and demands on his time. High Command was assembled by the time Hux arrived with Kylo waiting outside, and his father wasn’t there so it couldn’t be a war meeting. Yhen hadn’t told them what they were meeting about, which was normal enough, but now he wished to know why.

“We’re all assembled, Yhen, if you’d like to tell us why you called us,” pointed out Sen.

“There’s no easy way to say this so I won’t try and cushion my words,” Yhen said, looking at each of them. “Loyalists will keep springing up forever if we keep on as we have.”

“What do you mean?” asked Hux, though he thought he had an idea.

“High Command existed before Snoke, but that was the Exile or else the wars. To older generations our return to power without a Supreme Leader shows a return to those days. To younger generations, we have killed the Supreme Leader they have always known and are dismantling what they have always known.”

“We cannot simply install a new Supreme Leader,” said Xiu. “Not after all this.”

“I know it. But we need something else. And we have that.”

“What, pray tell, is that?” asked Delan.

Yhen’s gaze was steady as it fell onto Hux, his voice even as he said, “Hux, you’ve become a symbol for our cause. Now we just need you to do that a bit more fully. Step up, as it were,” he added, nodding towards the wheelchair, “and rule.”

“What?” asked Hux, his voice weak and glad he was already sitting. He had spent ages reading about empires, ages ago Kylo had thought him treasonous for dreaming of them.

“I’m sorry, we _just_ said we can’t have another Supreme Leader,” said Xiu.

“I’m not advocating for another Supreme Leader,” said Yhen.

“It sounds like you want another Empire,” said Sen. “I know that’s rather what we exiled ourselves for but–”

“But that’s just it,” said Delan, now staring down Hux. “We exiled ourselves over it. And we dragged our children with us. We made our deal with Snoke, we created the Order, and our children helped solidify it. And now we’ve broken it down. We make one of the Space Children emperor, we’ve fulfilled our promise to the old and our new way is familiar enough to the young they won’t rebel. The Space Children are not exiles the way we are, and they are too old to be First Generation. There is no better choice.”

“The Republic will hate it,” managed Hux, still reeling and feeling one of the knights knocking at his head as though to ask what was wrong. He pushed them away, best as he could.

“No more than they hate us now, I assume,” said Yhen.

“At the risk of sounding power mad, why Hux?” asked Sen. “Why not one of us?”

“Because we offered Snoke the title of Supreme Leader. We did that, not him. He was too young. We promoted him, and we’ll just promote him again. Do you remember our conversations when we spoke about promoting him to High Command?”

“Of course I do.”

“He’s highly intelligent, doesn’t have bloodlust, and can objectively plan. He doesn’t throw men into battle to revel in the death of them the way some do. Those were nearly your exact words.”

“Yes, I remember,” Sen agreed, sounding exasperated.

“Not to mention, Hux, you’ve made a name for yourself as an academic in dead Empires, and not just galactic ones. You’ve read whole dissertations on the small moving parts of dynasties that lasted generations, haven’t you?”

“Near enough to that, yes,” agreed Hux, not daring point out some of those were from before movable type existed.

“It does make sense,” finally muttered Xiu. “It might even cause some Loyalists to turn coat.”

Two hours passed before Hux had physical therapy, and by then High Command had looked at him and all four had told him that they were for the plan if he was. He would be Emperor before the year was out, if he agreed. Part of him wanted to agree on the spot, but the rest urged him to stop and _think_ and not just jump for it like a fool. If anything, his current weak legs were proof that trying to jump before he was ready would only cause him to crash.

He was distracted all the rest of the day, and on the bridge it was Khee who came and knelt at his side, her arms folded on the arm of his wheelchair, looking up at him and saying as if no one was around them and glancing at the odd picture they made, “I think you should do it. Quen Tor listened in to one of the other Generals.”

“There is a thing called privacy and tact, Khee,” said Hux. She just shrugged.

“Think about it. You’ve got me on your side at least.” Her hand lifted and a finger tapped at his cheekbone before she stood and left, still moving like an anxious bird.

That evening, after a dinner with his parents where his father clearly knew but didn’t say a word and his mother kept trying to pry out of the both of them what exactly was going on, Hux just sat and stared into the stars. He heard the door open and the familiar loping stomps of Kylo’s gait, and didn’t jump when a hand landed on his shoulder. “It is what you’ve wanted, isn’t it?” asked Kylo. “I caught it in your mind before, in the back of reading about the Edans and the J’leans.”

“It’s different when it’s offered to you,” said Hux, glad he didn’t have to say it. “Before it…it’s a thought experiment, a dream, not something you can think will actually happen. I love my nation and I serve it faithfully, and before I would have had to work against it to get here. And now…”

Kylo hummed. “You have us.”

“I have _you,_ and that says nothing about those who actually make up this nation. The fact that I have you at all might ring too close to being Snoke, and I’ll be assassinated within the year.”

“You’re nothing like Snoke. For one thing Snoke never took any of us to bed.” Hux shuddered at the very idea, that grotesque old creature touching any of the Knights the way he touched Kylo. “For another, Snoke hid himself away from the populace and only appeared when he had to. I was shown, you spoke to a boy who lost his father on Starkiller. You’re different.”

“I’m not exactly a benevolent wise man who walks the city in disguise to see what ills my people face so that I may fix them.”

“No, you aren’t, are you? But you’d be a good Emperor anyway. You helped us, that’s worth something isn’t it?”

Hux said nothing, but reached up to take Kylo’s hand, ungloved, and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “If I do this, you’re going to be more public than you have ever been. People are going to want to see you, know you, because you’ll be the emperor’s beloved.”

“I was very public as a child. In theory more than practice, but I still was. I’ve got some experience.” Hux didn’t ask, but did try and project his curiosity, but without pressure. Enough was going to change soon enough, more didn’t need to be added.

The next day it was Hux who summoned a meeting of High Command, and looked between them all and said, “You have offered me the station of Emperor, and I accept it. I shall do my utmost to fulfill my duty towards my country. I have been more with the military than governance and I am perhaps inexperienced in it, but I am sure there are very few who have more real desire to do what is right than I have.”

Yhen looked proud, Delan looked glad, Sen quietly pleased, and even Xiu had a smile on his face as they saluted to him. “Long live the Emperor,” said Yhen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we did it kids we're finally here
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://starkilleraflame.tumblr.com/)


	12. Chapter 12

Everything paused once it was announced, after High Command announced it and after Hux had made his first address essentially repeating the remarks he had prepared for High Command. The entire galaxy seemed to reel back a moment before things started going again. Hux was no longer allowed to be alone in any sort of public area, and the _Finalizer_ was turned towards Morpila. He would be crowned there, and the battles faded out in turn. Loyalists turned coat when they had an Emperor before them, not just High Command, and the civil war wasn’t declared _finished_ but certainly well on its way. His mother was ecstatic. The Republic, however, didn’t seem happy at all. And if the Republic wasn’t happy, the Resistance was frothing at the mouth with rage.

“You’re going to be the most well protected man in the galaxy, the day you’re coronated,” Yhen told him, when the two were looking over exactly what would be done the day of the coronation. It was something not done before, even Palpatine hadn’t had a coronation as such, and there was room to do whatever he liked and thought appropriate. The only parameters he could not choose were safety.

“It certainly seems that way,” allowed Hux, reading carefully charted placement of guards. “Why is the coronation to be held here?”

“This was where the first meetings of First Accord were held. It’s only right. Do you have any objections?”

“Not to this.” Yhen furrowed his brow and turned his head in question, slightly, but Hux didn’t answer it, instead turning back to the plans. “Is this only for the ceremony itself?”

“Yes. Once more of the motions of the coronation are planned, then more protection will be put into place for you.” Hux nodded slowly, and thought about how he’d probably have to be so protected the rest of his life.

It quickly became apparent that coronations were much easier when one was inheriting a kingdom from a long line of ancestors rather than crafting it for oneself. There was the question of wording of oaths, whether they could just take the oaths of High Command or if they needed to write new ones, of what kind of celebrations were appropriate, and worst of all was the question of regalia.

High Command left him alone on that question, citing his studies, but he didn’t know much more about it than they did, so his mother stepped in, of all people, assisted by Mitaka, who she seemed to have taken a liking to.

“There of course needs to be spectacle,” she was saying. “That’s why you’ll be crowned where First Accord was struck, it ties you to the history of the Order rather than striking out a new system. But you are going to be the founder of an Imperial House, so there needs be something that someone like you can read about, years down the line.”

“You seem to be enjoying this, Mother,” said Hux flatly, looking over a list of names he didn’t recognize.

“And you don’t.”

“I agree that there needs to be spectacle, yes. But _I_ don’t want to be the spectacle. I don’t want to be crowned like _this._ ” He gestured down at the wheelchair and his legs that were getting stronger but hardly strong enough.

“The human body can only heal so fast,” offered Mitaka.

“And we really would like you crowned soon as possible. Gives less of a chance for someone to come try and kill you to prevent it,” added Mathilde.

“There’s probably dozens of Resistance members begging for the chance,” agreed Hux. “Mother, what is this list?”

“Those are jewelers, I’ve found a list of good quality professionals. We need _a_ crown, and pending your approval, we’ll send away for some crown jewels.”

“We don’t need _crown jewels._ ”

She gave him such a look, and said, “You need a crown to be coronated with, there needs to be a crown for who you take as consort that marks them as consort for _their_ coronation.” Hux barely had a moment to feel grateful that she was talking about consorts in the abstract, rather than with the pronouns she very well knew she could be using, before she went on. “Usually there’s a second set of crowns the be worn for events that aren’t the ascension to the throne but that can be waived for now. You need a symbol to wear that marks you even when you aren’t wearing your crown, usually it’s a ring for a symbolic marriage to your country, though you can choose what system of marital signal you’re going to use. You need some sort of symbol that can be passed to you that shows the passing of power to you. You can put off most of them, crown jewels are usually built up over generations, but Empires are hereditary offices, eventually you’ll need to commission a crown for your heir as well as minor coronets for any other children you have, and if you ever abdicate rather than rule up until your death, _you’re_ going to need to have a minor coronet, and if you do rule up to your death but your consort survives you, _they’re_ going to need a specific crown that marks them as dowager. Granted, those can wait, but you’re going to need Crown Jewels.”

He paused a long moment before he said, “Coronation regalia. That’s it.”

“There’s things to choose in that, too,” warned Mitaka.

Choosing regalia rather chose the rhythms of the ceremony itself. There were endless options from endless monarchical systems throughout the galaxy and the only thing they all had in common was a symbol of being married to the country and a crown. Everything else varied wildly. Some didn’t even have a _coronation_ as such but a ritual procession to the throne.

His mother cheerfully read out various texts of J’lean coronations, the seven day ceremony and the seven crowns associated with each day. It was generally spotty information, but there was enough of it to know that it was far too elaborate and no matter how Hux admired them he didn’t want to emulate _that_ part of it. There were traditions of religions being involved, of having leaders of the monarch’s faith crown them, traditions of ceremonially “killing” opponents to the crown and placing it on one’s own head, traditions of being publicly bathed to wash away the life before taking the throne, traditions of performing feats of strength, traditions of kneeling before the throne and awaiting a sign from a divine being that it was time to sit on the throne no matter if it were minutes or days, traditions of fasting, of feasting, of shaving one’s head, of spilling one’s own blood, of battles to the death, of ritualistic motions that proved one was worthy of the throne.

And then there was one tradition that Hux liked. It was simple, it didn’t posture, but it carried with it the gravitas that a coronation required. The ascending monarch would wear a cape of black, mourning the death of their old life. They would look upon the throne they would reign from, and contemplate it in silence while attendants removed the black cape and in its place put one of green and gold, marking them as monarch. When they were marked, they would sit, and when enthroned they were ascended, in this tradition.

“It’s extinct and obscure,” said Mathilde fondly. “How perfect. But you can’t lift it whole cloth.”

“No, of course not, but I like it,” defended Hux.

“Given that we need spectacle and the Order has a history of oaths and ascension, we cannot simply have contemplation and a cape as your symbol of ascension. You do need a crown, and some sort of symbol of marital weight. You’ll be able to take it off when not publically conducting affairs of state, however.”

“What, the crown or the marriage symbol?”

“Both. Now Brendol Darling, you really do need to choose, we don’t have all that much time before the coronation. A simple crown can be beat out in time, but each new piece takes its own time.”

His gloves were rather protective measures against clawing his palms bloody, so it couldn’t be a ring. So they turned back to research again, of different codes of symbolizing marriage. There were more fleeting symbols, simply ways of holding ones spouse in portraiture or the couple braiding each others hair (or allowing another to preen them, in avian species), but of the concrete ones there were just as many. It was Mitaka who found the ancient custom long left aside of a person’s Life Necklace. With each new event, a new link was added, by the time a child was six, they had a small choker of links symbolizing birth, breath, walking, talking, dreams, memories, and other milestones. When one was married, one’s spouse found carved a link out of a gem for them, and when they died, their Life Necklace ought to have been so long it would have to be looped around one’s neck and shoulders multiple times, and hung up in the home afterwards, for the younger generations to reflect upon.

It wasn’t necessarily a marriage tradition, but they settled on it. A chain would be woven with one link for every planet he ruled, something that would lay across his shoulders. With that decided, Mathilde turned her forceful attention onto the idea of the crown itself. There wasn’t enough _time_ to have something truly impressive and jeweled, but it couldn’t just be a plain thing. If the Emperor’s crown was only a circlet, then what would anyone else wear? His children and consort would need crowns less impressive than his, and if his was _only_ metal, then no one could wear anything else.

“Decorate it with pearls,” said Hux, making the other two look at him. Clearing his throat for being so sentimental in front of a subordinate, he continued, “When we fled Arkanis, Father made certain to go and get your pearls. Decorate the crown with pearls.”

Mathilde smiled, and took a breath before she briskly shook her head and said, “Right. Now we need only choose a jeweler.”

“There’s one other thing I want made,” said Hux. “There’s a tradition. It’s from what was once part of the J’lean Empire, when it fractured. One of the kings, they were crowned sitting on a rock, not a throne, to tie them to their land. I don’t want a generic throne, I want it mosaiced with stones from every planet I rule.”

“That…will take time. It can be commissioned to be made, yes, but not in time for the coronation, I think. You might simply have to have that made for use in the future.”

“I’ll see what can be done,” offered Mitaka. “I’m quite certain that there’s at least one furniture maker who would do whatever it took to accommodate that request.”

“Yes, do. Now, remember, jewelers.”

The list was long, and his mother had done her research. Each one had lists of previous commissions and various pieces made for him to review. There were, of course, minor monarchs on most planets, rulers of small nations or else monarchs of ethnic groups, and they all had jewelers they favored. Too were jewelers favored by socialites and their ilk, holostars who wore their riches on their person. Finally they settled on a jeweler from a city near one of the poles of Sfera, the jeweler herself from a species that half photosynthesized and so reveled in the summer where the sun never set. She was contacted and within a day she had agreed, her hands shaking from excitement as she dove to start drawing even as she spoke to them about it.

The tailor for the two capes would be found next, someone who could make a fine suit that wasn’t just military wear. That search was scheduled for the next day, as Mitaka had a shift on the bridge to get to and the man had long since proven himself to be discrete so Hux did find himself leaning on him through the process.

When his mother bid him farewell, muttering about trying to rouse his father who was apparently sulking over the question of who would _he_ be in the new Empire, it didn’t take long before Kylo appeared and wheeled Hux away from his desk, kneeling before him to be close enough to eye level and saying, “There’s whispers all over the ship. About who you’ll entitle. An Emperor needs a court, everyone says, and they don’t know who you’re going to elevate to that status. I want you to entitle Nova, she’s the most like you, or if you don’t want her, Quen Tor. He might not speak Common Tongue but he’s brilliant.”

“Kylo, what’s this about?”

“Maybe I don’t know as much about Empire building as you do, but I’m not stupid. The Knights of Ren were an order that was loyal to Snoke. We were Snoke’s attack dogs. In this Empire, we have no place, we have no purpose. If we work for you, you become like Snoke. If you reject us, then what? We become scapegoats for all the hatred that anyone bears towards Snoke as you rise as Emperor. Make them nobility, say they helped your ascendency, and we transition and can survive.”

Hux held his gaze a long time, icy eyes meeting ones that were pitch except when light hit them and they were deep brown like a freshly turned bed of soil. Those were eyes that could be the void and death of space or the birth and life of earth.

“Are the Knights of Ren celibate?”

“Clearly not,” snorted Kylo, giving him a look.

“Then the House of Ren won’t go extinct within the first generation.”

“House…?”

“If we have seven separate families, it will only get confusing. I haven’t thought about noble houses, but you’re right, we need them. They’ll all be announced later, after the coronation, when I actually have the power to do that, but you and your Knights will be among the first.” Kylo nearly leapt to kiss him in thanks, but without the breaks applied to the wheelchair Hux went rolling backwards and Kylo ended up with his chin in Hux’s lap, startled into laughter.

Kylo, all the Knights, they laughed and smiled now. And it terrified nearly everyone aboard the ship, and it startled Hux every time it happened, but he was growing to like it. Kylo had told him that they worked only with the Dark Side of the Force, that which was fueled by pain, rage, fear, and hate. And they had all been so strong in it, there was little that didn’t get pulled to those four pillars or else they were pushed there by Snoke and his abuses. That they smiled, they were no longer beholden to those four, it eased something in Hux. Kylo had said that when Nova and Penninah fought that it was merely sisters fighting, and so that they were becoming happy meant that Kylo’s family was becoming happier. And that made Kylo happy, and Hux loved him so of course he wanted to see his beloved happy.

He seemed different, sometimes, from the absolute impossibility that Hux had fallen in love with, but perhaps that’s what made him love him all the more, to see him heal. It was like loving a man with a broken leg, one didn’t reject him once he could stand without aid.

 

* * *

 

There were eight different hotels all around Morpila that were claiming to host him, and thirty shuttles that said in transmission that he was aboard. In truth, he went down on a silent shuttle going to the home of Representative Brihadratha Shunga, in the south. His parents and General Yhen came too, sighing to be back under familiar silver skies. “I truly do hate being in space for so long,” he commented as the door opened and they disembarked. Representative Shunga and his family were there to greet him, a young cousin called Jantu who was staying with him so as to attend university nearby, and his grandmother Girika, who also was confined to a wheelchair. It was no wonder it was here that he was sent until the coronation, the home was no doubt already set up for someone weak of muscle in a wheelchair.

“Your majesty, it is an honor to share my home with you,” said Shunga. “I will show you to your room, if it pleases you.”

“That will do for our meeting,” commented Yhen, and the two were brought to a fine suite on the ground floor, near where Girika’s rooms were. The Commandant and Mathilde were brought to their own room, leaving Yhen and Hux to talk. “There is the matter of who will be _attending_ your coronation,” Yhen said. “It cannot be done entirely in private, after all.”

“I think the easier question would be who can I snub?” countered Hux.

“Perhaps it would be. The hall itself can only hold around five hundred spectators, but we might be able to force a few more in. That said, there are choices that have to be made.” Representatives from each planet of course had to be present, which only left around a hundred more spaces to be filled. “If we had noble families that would help dictate this, but as it is…”

“Yhen I have worked with you, you’re trying to lead up to something.”

“The rest of your life, Hux, is going to be building an empire. You know this. And in building an Empire, you won’t have time for war. You need to invite at least a handful of people from the New Republic as a symbolic gesture. Just so that way you have time to put together law codes, put together a court, build a royal residence or two. You need time, and if you make this gesture they will be hard pressed to take that time from you.”

“If you’re suggesting I invite who I think you’re suggesting – ”

“Yes, you need to invite Leia Organa.”

“She is the leader of the Resistance!”

“Exactly my point. Set it aside for all of one minute and think, Hux. She’s de facto queen of the Aldaraanian diaspora, she’s of equal social standing or near as there is to it. It’s in good form to invite her. I don’t like it either, but she can hardly refuse, there’s no good reason to turn down a goodwill invitation, and if she comes she cannot turn her organization against you because she’ll face the backlash for having been at your coronation.”

Hux thought about how at the mention of her name Kylo had turned and destroyed expensive equipment, but Yhen was right. Inviting her, getting her to come, it was nearly necessary if he was to have any breath of space in which to build his empire. He’d have to warn Kylo, though. He wasn’t looking forward to _that_ conversation.

“It would also be good for you to invite the Count of Sargan,” Yhen was continuing. “Though, given the size of his family, I think it would be best to specify that he, his wife, and his heir and her spouse are the only ones invited.”

“Probably wise. Is there anyone else you think would be prudent to invite?”

“Are you going to take my advice?” countered Yhen.

“Seeing as you are the one who has taken on this task and will likely be the one actually sending the invitations, I doubt I have any choice in the matter and this is all for show.”

“And so you don’t get surprised the day of.”

“I suppose that’s some sort of comfort.”

The guest list was finalized within the day, and invitations would be sent out soon thereafter. Then came the business of what would happen after the ceremony. That was to be a grand party; dinner (Hux made a mental note to ask Kylo what exactly those foods were he wouldn’t eat for fear of being poisoned), dancing, and a display of fireworks. There would be a public holiday too, closer to First Accord’s celebrations than anything else.

There were more general and ceremonial motions to be made that day too. It was the start of a new regime, after all, so most prisoners would be released from jail, there would be a proclamation made of the decommission of the Stormtroopers, and other largely symbolic gestures. Those were already quietly being put in motion, that they could be done smoothly upon the coronation day.

Hux was only let off from tending to all the myriad concerns by dinner, and afterwards retreated back to his room to do his physical therapy exercises in peace. It was there that came the familiar sensation of Kylo trying to be gentle as he slid into Hux’s mind.

_Why are they trying to get a tailor to make us new clothes for the coronation?_

_Good evening to you as well,_ said Hux, focusing mostly on his calf exercises. _I don’t know who “they” are, so I can’t answer your question._

_Bren, I’m serious._

_So am I. Who is trying to get you new clothes and why are you so upset about it?_

There was a pause, before Kylo did what he so often did, held up ideas and impressions and images for Hux to peruse to understand. It was the asceticism, it was nearly impossible to just give up after so long. It felt wrong to be so indulgent, even if that indulgence was just new clothes that didn’t mark them as Snoke’s.

_Oh my impossible Knight. You have the whole rest of your life to adjust. If you don’t want indulgence, ask for clothes of the same material you have now. We aren’t about to start wearing the nonsense they do in the Republic._

_But why do we need new clothes?_

_Same reason I do, I suppose. My mother’s getting a new dress too. This is going to be the most important event for years, Kylo, and new clothes are usually a marker for that. How are the others doing?_

_No better than me. You thought of me, earlier._

_Someday you’re going to have to tell me just how aware you are of my thoughts. I wanted to know what those foods you won’t eat for fear of poisoning are. So we don’t serve them at the banquet._

A pulse of pleased affection washed over him, and Hux found himself smiling as he changed exercises.

When he finally went to sleep that night, it was to the smell of the gardens outside and the feel of Kylo still in his head, with him though far away.

 

* * *

 

The next day brought a tailor who had multiple patterns drawn up to be embroidered on his regnal cape, he need only choose one, and a sketch of what he would be wearing. It was white with golden accents, and it was so far removed from even his dress uniform’s colors that it was a struggle not to simply outright reject it. The man would be back soon with the suit for a fitting, rushing the work to be ready in time. The regnal cape and the black cape of mourning might take a little longer, due to size and embroidery, while the suit was all clean lines.

Girika Shunga invited him and his parents to tea in the garden, claiming to be lonely when Jantu was at class and Brihadratha was working. Hux was the last to arrive and within seconds of arriving saw his mother’s eyes were sad again, they hadn’t been sad since he woke up from his coma, and swallowed anger. He was a guest in this home and it wouldn’t do to start a scene in front of one of his hosts.

“Your Majesty,” greeted Girika, bowing her head. “I think you’ll forgive me for not standing.”

“The correct address would be ‘Your _Imperial_ Majesty,’” corrected the Commandant irritably, and Mathilde looked down to her cup of tea at that.

“I haven’t been coronated yet, father, I think we can waive the address for now,” pointed out the Emperor, reminding himself that he _was_ an Emperor, that he wasn’t just Brendol. Girika poured him a cup of delicate tea and asked politely after how he was healing. They passed a few minutes talking about slowly building strength enough to stand up, before the question that had been haunting him was asked.

“Do you think you will be able to stand in time for the coronation?” asked Girika politely.

“I am endeavoring to be able to, yes. But the human body can only heal so fast.”

“Don’t overwork yourself though, Brendol Darling,” interjected Mathilde. “If you do, you’ll only hurt yourself.”

“I wouldn’t tell him what to do, Mathilde, he is the _Emperor,_ ” said Hux, and Brendol found himself suddenly back as his father’s son, and seethed for it.

“Father, if you have something you wish to say, please feel free to do so,” said Brendol, both glad and angry he was still in the wheelchair, glad and angry that it made it hard to quickly escape these conversations.

“Nothing, your majesty.”

“Stars’ sake, he’s still your son, Commandant,” said Girika, pouring Mathilde another cup and seemingly oblivious to how things worked in the Hux family. “It isn’t as though you two are strangers.”

Weren’t they? It felt like they were, sometimes, when their conversations took these turns.

“What is an Emperor’s father if not a stranger?” countered Hux, and Mathilde was biting her lip and looking quietly distressed that she couldn’t figure out how to fix this situation. “Where in the Empire does he fit?”

“Ah, so you have heard of the Salians,” Girika said wisely. “Salic law is usually considered unnecessarily obsolete. I wonder why you took to it?”

“Salic law?” asked Mathilde, voice very carefully even.

“It is very old, from one of the kingdoms from Morpila’s history. It is likely that there is a text or two in our library, your majesty, I have heard you’re something of a scholar. In any case, the most famous law was the one that forbade any woman from reigning. The crown would pass only through men. The Salians had twenty nine different dynasties, or thereabouts, because they kept having daughters and so the power passed to a cousin. In those systems, yes, the father of a king was rather obsolete and pointless. But there are plenty more where there were dowager kings who lived on when their wives passed and power went to their children. Console yourself, Commandant, to know that you are among thousands of fathers who lived to see their children crowned.”

The rest of tea was absolutely silent, before Girika excused herself and the others followed her example almost immediately.

The conversation sat heavy in Hux’s stomach as he pushed himself out of the chair and onto the bed that he might continue his exercises. His father was struggling with where he would fit in the new Empire, and for all that his mother had miraculously managed to change some things about him, had reverted to saddening her. That was what happened. When his father had power, like consulting in the civil war, his mother could smile and talk with the Knights and become so beloved by them that they insisted her promises had as much weight as a military order. When his father faced losing that power, with becoming obsolete and pointless in the new regime, his mother became sad eyed again and distressed with her husband and son butted heads again. And now Hux had ascended to a hereditary office, something he could only pass onwards and never back and would forever outrank his father in all things. He could promote his father all he wanted, but there was no station higher than Emperor.

Kylo nudged into his mind not long after, relaying that they were coming down to the planet and warning that they were going to come visit. Hux agreed, citing that he had something very important to talk to Kylo about and it would best be done face to face.

When they did come, it was the day that Hux was getting a fitting for his coronation suit, the clean white and gold lines just close enough to feeling like a military uniform that it didn’t feel wrong. It was in the old Imperial style, under Palpatine, but the gold and white on Morpila stood for something else, white for mourning and gold for celebration.

“It looks good,” commented Kylo, and the poor tailor very nearly stuck Hux with a pin so badly was he startled.

“It is almost universally considered bad form to sneak up on someone,” informed Hux. _And don’t you dare try and kiss me, not with people around._ Kylo didn’t react to either sentence, only came more fully into the room and watched as things were pinned and adjusted. “Where are the others?”

Kylo’s eyes unfocused for a second before he said, “They’ve dispersed, mostly. Obsi and Tem are in the gardens together…actually, someone should probably stop them, Tem’s climbing trees.”

“They’re not my trees,” said Hux, lifting his arm when prompted.

“Not until the coronation?”

“Even then. Kylo, an Emperor does not just own everything. He cannot enter someone’s home and take their possessions and declare them his.” Finally the fitting was done and he was helped out of the suit and allowed to change back into his normal clothes. The tailor took his leave, and only then did Kylo kiss him. “You were waiting to do that, weren’t you?” Kylo’s smile was all the answer Hux needed.

“You said you had something important to talk about?” prompted his Knight.

“Yes. And I need you to promise that you won’t react like you have in the past. We are guests here, you cannot destroy _anything._ ”

“Very well.”

Hux took a deep breath, and finally said, “Yhen and I were discussing who should be invited to the coronation. Of course, planetary representatives, you and your Knights, my parents, the obvious ones. But he pointed out that there needs to be at least a breath of peace so that this Empire has a chance to be built. So we have to invite Count Toggen from Sargan, and…he made a very convincing case for inviting Leia Organa.”

Kylo went perfectly still and silent before a shudder wracked his frame and he covered his face with his hands before dropping them and pacing about the room. Hux just watched him until he sat down in one of the chairs and began tugging at his hair. It was growing close to its usual length, and that gave him plenty to grip as he tried to calm his breathing, his eyes distant and unfocused that usually meant he was talking to one of his Knights. Finally, he hissed out a breath from between his teeth and said, very suddenly, “I don’t – I’m not…I have to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Just…You know that Organa had a son, don’t you?”

Hux blinked, but said, “Yes, he was called Ben wasn’t he? He was killed a long time ago, died when the Jedi School was destroyed.”

“Oh is that what they’ve been saying?” asked Kylo before taking a long breath. His voice was very carefully calm as he said, “Ben Organa-Solo was sent to the Jedi School, yes. And he did die. He’s been dead this whole time.”

“…Yes.”

“His parents were Leia Organa and Han Solo.”

“Kylo, what on earth are you – ”

“ _My_ parents were Leia Organa and Han Solo.”

Kylo was staring at his hands, and holding perfectly still. Hux’s whole head felt full of static. Distantly, he had a feeling that Kylo was waiting to hear how he would react but even Hux wasn’t sure how he was going to react. In the end, he ended up just making a strangled questioning sound.

The story came out in stops and starts, rushed in places and dragged out in others. Snoke had been in his head since he had been an infant and his mother had tried to block him, though it never worked, but that was why he was better adjusted to personhood than the other six knights. Eventually Snoke whispering in his head had become too much, and his parents had sent him away to Luke Skywalker’s school, where it had only gotten worse. Skywalker had been warning him of the Dark and its lies, Snoke had been warning him of the Light and _its_ lies, and he had woken up one night to see Luke Skywalker standing over him, lightsaber ignited and about to strike him dead.

“Ben died that night. I burned down the place, destroyed everything, and I fled to Snoke. He welcomed me, consoled me for the betrayal and renamed me Kylo, and said that I would be Ren. I was reborn and I _am_ Kylo, it’s not a change of name it’s a change of who I am but they’re still my parents. And now they’ll be at the coronation and I’ll have to deal with that.”

Hux stared at Kylo a long time before holding out his hand, which Kylo swiftly took between his two larger ones. “Well, we…we will just have to keep them away from you, that’s all,” said Hux. “And we don’t know if they’ll actually accept.”

“They will. Do you remember why Phasma lowered the shields on Starkiller? Because the traitor and an old man accompanied by a Wookie put a blaster to her head. Han Solo was on that base to destroy it, and to try and bring me home if he could. Thought I was still Ben. They’ll try again.”

Hux closed his eyes and quickly compartmentalized, set things aside as something not to worry about just yet. Starkiller would haunt him, looking back it was a blessing he had forgotten it with his Post Traumatic Amnesia, but that did mean he had time to deal with it, to listen and refigure that tragedy. “If it’s all the same, I don’t really intend to let you go,” he said. “My mother was talking about what sort of crown we could get in time for the coronation and warned me that it would have to be decorated or else what would we do for an Imperial Consort’s crown?”

“Careful, Bren, you aren’t even Emperor yet.” But there was a speck of lightness coming back to him rather than distress and despair at the talk of a more permanent union.

Tugging Kylo closer, Bren pressed a kiss to his lips, light and fleeting, before pressing another to his brow and whispering there against the skin, “I’ll build a peace for you, so you don’t have to see them again. We need one anyway, to create a new regime, but it won’t be built for my empire but for you. If you want, I’ll make sure that they can’t speak to you at all, I’ll instate codes like on Sargan, keep a lower rank from speaking first, and I’ll marry you. Even kings and queens are below Emperors, you’ll be above Organa forever, she’ll never be able to speak to you. Say the word and I will.”

The brakes had been put on, and it was a good thing too, because Kylo braced his hands on the arms of the wheelchair and nearly loomed over him to kiss him. It was desperate and deep and Bren kissed back, for the moment not even thinking about the fact that he was in someone else’s home and that technically anyone could walk in.

“Sometimes I think about how when I first met you I hated you, and I just want to go back and slap myself into realizing how amazing you are,” Kylo said when they separated.

“Probably would have saved us some time,” commented Bren, smirking up at Kylo, who laughed and dove back down to kiss him again. There came a knock at the window, of all places, and it startled Bren. It was Obsi, knocking away until Kylo went to open the window, and then spoke quietly and urgently to him.

“Apparently Tem has taken a liking to some of the plants and is trying to dig them up and take them into his room,” said Kylo, turning back.

“Go stop him, we don’t want to antagonize Representative Shunga.” Kylo gave him one last kiss before leaving, but Obsi was still leaning on the windowsill, watching him.

“You were comatose, but I’ve had the occasion to see, the last few months, all sorts of people in all sorts of love,” said Obsi. “But I never saw anyone love anyone as much as my brother loves you. I’m glad you love him as much, too.”

“So you’re brothers now, are you?”

“Yes. Snoke was, to each of us, a parent, of sorts. In the beginning, at least. Things got worse as we grew up, but when we were children, he was our parent. We all have him in common since we gave up on our past lives, so we’re siblings.”

“For someone who’s given up on his past life, you were happy to send me back into your childhood memories, back when Snoke attacked me.”

Obsi gave a shrug, looking between wistful and unconcerned. “I had a different name then, and parents. I don’t miss either of those things, but I do miss the mountain.” He shook his head and said, “Anyway, Khee’s gotten absorbed by Madam Girika and is setting up camp in her closet, I’m going to see if I can’t lure her away.”

“Why is she in there?”

“Khee’s really into soft things, textures and such. Madam Girika has a lot of furs and dresses made of soft fabric.” With a nod, he left.

They may be Kylo’s family, Hux thought to himself, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever understand them.

 

* * *

 

Dinner with the Knights joining them seemed to make poor Jantu lose all of his appetite, just staring at the seven newcomers. Girika, however, did seem to have a devotee in Khee, who had a bright pink scarf around her neck and was stroking at it when she wasn’t eating, listening nearly rapturously to the old woman talk about the old fashion houses that would custom make clothing out of luxurious fabrics and how it was such a shame they were starting to phase out.

Representative Shunga was, in turn, valiantly trying to play good host, but four of the Knights were glowering at the Commandant, which, if Kylo was to be believed, came from the fact that he seemed to be making their beloved Mathilde sad. Finally, Hux cleared his throat and said, “Tem, I was told you were trying to dig up flowers today?”

“I like the colors, I wanted to keep them near me,” defended the Knight.

“You could go out to the garden, you know. Or get some in a vase for your room.”

“I could?”

“Yes, you know, I was in the library and there’s whole books on flower arrangements,” added Mathilde. “We could find an arrangement you liked and have it made.”

“It’s a good library,” added Nova, her flinty eyes still boring into the side of the Commandant’s head. He was doing a very good job of ignoring it, which was mildly impressive.

“Thank you, my lady, that’s very kind of you,” tried Representative Shunga.

“Jantu, what do you study?” asked Obsi very suddenly, making the young man jump. He stuttered a bit, before muttering out,

“I, uh, I study economics, your lordship.”

“I don’t know anything about economics, explain it.”

“Asking someone to explain an entire field of study over a single meal is hardly fair, Obsi,” said Kylo. He then raised an eyebrow at him and Obsi slumped back into his seat, defeated.

Silence fell over the table a while, excepting where Girika and Khee were talking. “…Of course the Houses took extensive measurements of you only the first time, to create a specific mannequin of your exact measurements, so they didn’t have to trouble you for fittings,” Girika was saying.

“They’d just deliver it already made and perfect?”

“You had to come in to get it, of course. My Vasu was always so particular about going in only when every order was finished so we would only have to spend a single day in the city. He was quite the country mouse, that man. But you’d go in, they’d have you try it on, fix whatever small things needed fixing, and if it wasn’t perfect would happily create a new one. Even over something like color.” Khee’s eyes were wide and the scarf was being rubbed against her cheek now. The old woman, for her part, looked delighted to have an audience.

“Are you going to find a fashion house for your new clothes for the coronation, then?” asked Penninah.

“Is that an option?” asked Khee, before turning to Hux and asking, “Is that an option?”

“It could be, if you wanted it to, I suppose,” allowed Hux. “I don’t know that much about how those work.”

“We don’t have much time,” said Mathilde. “But I’m sure a simple enough gown could be made. Madam, do you know how long they usually take?”

“Well, they will certainly be busy, I suppose, for an event like this,” said Girika. “But I do have standing that maybe I could persuade them to work a bit faster. They don’t usually sew for humans, though. But perhaps we could arrange something. It would cost a lot of money.”

“Oh. I don’t have any money,” said Khee, sinking down and burying her face in the scarf. Kylo turned to Hux then, and just looked at him a long moment, before Hux sighed and said,

“Khee, I will pay for your gown. But only this once.” Khee, for her part, jumped out of her seat, ran over to him and threw her arms around him, hugging him at an awkward angle. “Yes, alright, get off.”

“You’re wonderful and amazing and I understand why my brother loves you, you’re perfect,” she declared, before releasing him. Her hands fisted in the scarf she said, “I’m not hungry, but I am not going to be rude and leave without saying anything. I am done eating and I am going to go look at the collections Madam Girika showed me earlier and choose a gown I’d like. I am not being rude.” And with that, she was gone.

“Have you been working on their manners, mother?”

“It’s something of a work in progress,” said Mathilde.

“You could work on staring, first,” said the Commandant. Mathilde glanced down at that, and Nova took a long inhale of breath, doubling the venom in her stare.

_Are you not going to tell them to stop?_ asked Hux, glancing a split second towards Kylo.

_No. I don’t much care for your father either. Neither do you,_ replied his Knight.

_We have a complicated relationship, but that doesn’t mean I hate him._

_Well, we’re much fonder of you and your mother than him, and until he starts treating the both of you right, I don’t much plan on making anyone stop. We have something of a history of less than ideal paternal figures, among us._

_What, and your mothers were all exemplar?_ Milliseconds after thinking it, he realized what he had said, especially given what Kylo had entrusted to him, and tried to project his apology. In turn, there was the feeling as though a hand was brushing over his soul, an assurance.

After dinner, Girika retired to her rooms, where Khee had probably stationed herself, and Hux was pulled into another meeting about the coronation, as usual. Tem nearly kidnapped Mathilde to pull her away from the Commandant, which was probably the best as could be expected.

 

* * *

 

Khee chose a gown so old fashioned Hux hadn’t ever seen anyone wear it. It had gone out of fashion before the Exiles had arrived, but she would not hear a word against it. “It’s all the fringe,” she said, “It’ll move when I do. And underneath it, it will be soft, so it’ll be soft on my skin.” She went with Girika into Benau, where the fashion houses were, and the other Knights joined her, staying in Benau until the coronation, which was rapidly approaching.

The crown fit perfectly, and it had been at that test that the whole weight of it sank into Hux, who was sent quietly reeling. Still, all of High Command quietly convened and practiced the ceremony multiple times in the ballroom of Representative Shunga’s home to make certain they remembered the vows they were to take. Kylo talked to him, but not quite so often, relaying that they all got their new clothes and all hated them, except for Khee, who cried when she put on her new gown and refused to take it off except to sleep.

_That’s a comfort, it did cost enough,_ said Hux, his own hand stroking over the rich green fabric of the cape, decorated with geometric patterns of gold, circles within circles.

_She adores you now,_ relayed Kylo.

_That’s always useful. Kylo, I was told today…the foreign guests have entered into…is it Imperial space yet?_

_Not until the crown is on your head._ But there was distinct heaviness to his voice. _So they’re here._

_Not on Morpila yet, but yes. I’ve done all that I can to keep them far away from you during the coronation itself and through the banquet, but don’t know how much I’ll be able to do during the ball and the fireworks._

_You’re trying, and that’s what matters._

They had barely any more time to talk, instead Hux was whisked into endless preparations and elaborate dances of travelling while leaving hundreds of false trails behind him no one knew where he truly was. And with himself, his mother, and his father travelling separately, that was three different transports all declaring to have Hux on board within the dozens of false trails each left. When Benau finally appeared, it was a relief.

He was tucked away in Yhen’s home until the day before his coronation when he would leave Benau to process in more publicly. Yhen’s home was sparsely furnished and would have been too close of quarters if it weren’t for the fact that both men were military and more than used to it. The wheelchair was a little more problematic there, but they made it through.

“You’ll be happy to hear, that throne you ordered has arrived,” said Yhen one day over breakfast. “With the mosaic.” It made Hux smile to hear, taking a long drink of his tea and looking outside. It was winter in Benau, but they were close enough to the equator that it was mild. The day of the coronation promised to be warm, even for winter in Benau, with sunny skies. The city itself was bustling like mad, preparing itself for the biggest celebration it would have ever seen.

Finally, the coronation planning drew away from Hux himself, to give him a chance to contemplate and reflect on what was about to change. He took the time to write out his first address he would give to the nation, right after being crowned. He would address the nation, something short, before he would be whisked away to Imperial celebration and the people to public celebration. And very privately, he practiced something even more important than the address, but sparingly, to make certain it was possible.

Life was about to drastically change.

 

* * *

 

Dressed in his new suit of white and gold, he rode ostensibly alone in a speeder so that his people could see him. He was, of course, escorted by a parade and everyone in that parade was heavily armed, but subtly so. People of species from all across what would very shortly be called the Second Empire crowded along the parade path, and filled in behind. It felt like a herd of livestock herding the shepherd, and Hux smiled as he nodded politely in acknowledgment, his cape of black tucked around him where he sat.

Flowers were tossed, confetti too, and he saw more than a few handfuls of colored chalk thrown about among the crowds, though none reached him or stained his new suit. He raised his hand and waved, acknowledging his people, and was gratified that they were all so pleased at his coronation. He knew that this was being broadcast across the nation, that there were probably commentators describing what was happening, and wondered if there weren’t a few spectators in the New Republic as well.

At the back of his hearing, he listened for any sounds that might be dangerous, blasters firing or cheers turning into distressed screams. But he heard nothing, and made a note to congratulate Yhen for making him indeed the most well protected man in the galaxy.

Through Benau they went, until they reached the pavilion where First Accord had been made. Where his throne was set up and where the invited spectators were awaiting him. Carefully, he was transferred to his wheelchair, and Lieutenant Mitaka was the one who would keep his black cape from getting caught in the wheels, holding it almost like brides in various cultures had their trains held. Seeing as a coronation was a symbolic marriage to one’s own country, it fit.

If outside the people had cheered, inside the spectators were silent and respectful, but it was not silent. He entered to the sound of a single woman singing, her voice rich and powerful as she sang in Bhāșe, before joined by a choir. He didn’t know what she was saying, but he remembered that discussion and decision being made, she was singing a verse from some epic poem from Morpila’s history, a nod to Hux’s own interests. It told of a king’s coronation, and how the people rejoiced for it.

His approach to the throne was unhurried, and it felt, of all things, easy. He approached the throne which the rest of his life would be focused about, and did not cringe at the eyes of those in the room nor those that he knew were all across his nation. Before him stood the mosaiced throne, but too High Command, each holding a piece of coronation regalia. Near them were his parents, standing as all the spectators were to receive him. His father wore full dress uniform, and his mother wore a fine gown of gold, celebrating her son’s ascension. Around her neck was the choker of pearls and matching strands that his father made so certain to collect before they fled Arkanis. To the side but near the throne were the Knights of Ren.

Kylo himself looked particularly fine in a dove grey suit that wasn’t the black of his apprenticeship under Snoke but didn’t make such a huge leap away from it. For less than a moment, Hux let himself imagine unwrapping his beloved Knight from the layers, but he pushed that away. The others too were well dressed, but Khee certainly stood out, in her fringed dress of silver. And standing out did seem to be what she didn’t want, nearly pressed to Quen Tor’s side, her fingers worrying at the fabric.

Across from them, three figures stood, watching him with proud eyes, and he glanced over to them quickly, glad to see them. Shara Kypling wore a gown of green, and it reminded him of the bright frocks from their childhood on the _Aggressor._ And near enough to her were Professor Mabun with his beetle black eyes and wide smile, and Dr. Riil, the old woman dressed in a gown nearly as old fashioned as Khee’s. He regretted that he hadn’t had a chance to talk to them in what was going on a year now, but to see them here, on what was arguably the most important day of his life as he ascended to a throne that they had both had hands in preparing him for, it felt right.

He looked at no one else. He didn’t know where the foreign guests were seated, and he did not want to look at them until he absolutely had to.

Finally, they had reached the throne. And there he stayed, as Yhen approached with the green and gold regnal cape. Now was the first of the oaths. “General Brendol Hux Junior. You approach this throne with title. Do you so swear to cast it off, to never again take it, and to ascend to the office this throne represents?”

“I so swear these things,” replied Hux.

“Do you so swear to respect the office this throne represents? To ever strive for peace in the lives of your subjects, to serve them not less but ever more than you did in your past life?” A tightening in his head then, like a collective breath being taken in by the Knights, who had cast off who they had been and reformed themselves into who they were now – slowly healing but yet rather damaged young people. “To dedicate your life to the service and preservation of your people and your country, to ever and always put them before yourself? To leave behind what cannot be carried forward and not mourn that it be set aside?”

“I so swear these things.”

“Then take a moment to mourn the death of the past, and receive a new mantle of celebration.”

The moment of mourning passed as Mitaka unclasped the black cloak, and let it lay over the wheelchair’s back as he moved to help Hux stand and take the nine steps to stand before the throne, where Yhen would attach the regnal cape.

But instead, Hux held up a hand, warning away Mitaka, and slowly, slowly, pushed himself to his feet. The whole attendance went silent in a different way than before, a rustle of a collective breath. With shaking legs he forced himself to stand straight, and took the nine careful steps towards the coronation throne. He felt as though he would fall at any moment, but managed to stay upright, his back straight and hiding the shaking as best he could. Barely breathing he stood before the throne, feeling the regnal cape was attached, the weight lightened by Mitaka who held the end. Only then did he turn and let himself sit, legs weak and what few muscles he had jumping for the strain. The cape was arranged about him, and the mourning cape and wheelchair brought away, providing an unobstructed view of the now enthroned Emperor.

To his credit, there wasn’t a hitch in Xiu’s gait as he stepped forward, holding the elaborately woven chain. It was elegant but would be weighty, the burden of all that he ruled physical upon his shoulders. Hux raised his chin, ever so slightly, as Xiu stood before him and spoke. “Brendol Hux Junior, do you so swear to govern the peoples of your Empire according to their respective laws and customs? To execute both justice and mercy in all your judgments?”

“I so swear these things.” And he bowed his head to allow Xiu to place the heavy chain about his shoulders. Next came Sen, holding a staff of power, the symbol by which power was passed to him. It was tall as a walking stick, and meaningfully so, that he could lean on it when addressing his people.

“Brendol Hux Junior, do you so swear to stand below your own rod of justice? To hold yourself not only as emperor but as man?”

“I so swear these things.”

“Do you so swear to care for your citizens as ever they should wish? To never turn your gaze and care away from them, but rather require their care in return? To think twice and thrice before ever you should make a request of them? To ensure their safety before you lay to sleep? To know them fed before you feast? To defend them as though they were your own children?”

“I so swear these things.”

“Do you so swear to do all in your power to keep them as they should be kept, to do all in your power that never should they have to die in your name? To let no sacrifice be made in vain and yet to never need such a deed?”

“I so swear these things.” And the staff was thus presented to him, held in his right hand and braced against the ground, holding it upright. And Sen stepped back, letting Delan approach with the crown in her hands, the circlet of gold decorated with pearls.

“Brendol Hux Junior,” she said. “You have sworn many oaths, and have been invested and enthroned. Do you swear not to ignore these oaths as formality? To instead reflect on them and set the course of your life about them? To dedicate your life to their fulfilment?”

“I so swear to do so,” answered Hux. “The things which I have here before promised, I will perform and keep.”

“Then to you I present this crown, and name you thus Emperor.” He did not bend his head to receive it, letting her place it upon his head. It settled there, and when she stepped back, the call rose up from those in attendance,

“Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor!”

He just took a moment to breathe, sitting in the throne, looking at those in attendance who applauded; his mother who looked like she was about to cry, the Knights who all looked delighted in their own ways, Professor Mabun who clapped in the motions the Edans used, Dr. Riil who touched her brow and cast her hand towards him as the J’lean signal of recognition of the monarch, Shara Kypling who _was_ crying. Outside he could hear bells ringing, and faintly what sounded like the rush of water but what he knew were the cheers and applause of his new subjects. He should have felt entirely alone, sitting in front of the gaze of millions, but instead he felt confident and powerful. He was alone, and it was by his hand that the future of his nation would be shaped. And that felt good, not frightening. And _that_ was the frightening bit.

He stood on his own power again, but his legs trembled awfully and he had to sit in the wheelchair again. Those nine steps had been the most he could do, and he was proud of that. With staff in hand and circlet about his head, he was wheeled to the door, a fanfare played out and the cheers swelling as he emerged, his first appearance before his people.

He knew that all around him, dozens of guards and soldiers kept close watch to see if anyone would make an attempt on his life this first appearance. There, he leaned entirely on his staff of power to stand and raise his free hand in a gesture of recognition, listening to the maddened cheers, before he spoke, everyone hushing to hear him, his voice projected.

“My people, I have come before you not an hour into my reign, that I may speak to you, to assure you of what will come,” he said, looking at the crowds before him. “The old ways are dead, and we enter a new age together. But to enter a new age is not easy, and so I come to assure you.

“Across the stars and across time, rulers have taken regnal names, marking the change in their lives. But I was not sprung from stardust. I am a man of flesh and blood and so I take no new name, I impart no new name to my descendants. The old ways are dead but cannot be forgotten, and so I tie myself to them forever, that we do not forget how this Empire came to be.

“And though we remember, we cast it off. I cast off my title and all I was before, and in turn so does my nation. On this day, prisoners held under the previous regime are freed, and to those who High Command promised lives, to the Stormtroopers, I say again, we have not forgotten all we swore, and this day you are decommissioned.” At this proclamation, screams of approval rang up, flowers and chalk and confetti thrown into the air. Be it for prisoners or Stormtroopers, he wasn’t sure. But he let them cheer for a moment before he continued with his speech.

It would be recorded for history, and would likely be studied just as he studied speeches the same from history. Students probably within his own lifetime would be reading this. It was why he had spent so much effort on it, placating the nation and promising in simpler terms all he had just sworn to do. But it was short, because he had never held with very long speeches, and because he was becoming rather unable to stand, even with the aid of the staff of power.

And so he finished, and with trembling muscles, he bowed to his people before sitting in the wheelchair once more, trying not to gasp for the strain such an exercise had done to him. He would probably be hearing from Dr. Mabuse about it. He was brought to a transport that would parade through Benau before finally bringing him to the coronation banquet.

It was in the middle of the parade that word reached him, whispered into his ear, that while all the guests were assembled, apparently Kylo had stood and made some grand declaration, essentially giving himself a new rank, and it was a very good thing that he hadn’t been present or else he’d probably have to condone or condemn it, and he didn’t really want to deal with that.

“If anyone of any standing, be it high or low, would deny or contradict that our Emperor is not the rightful head to receive the Imperial Crown of this great realm and should not enjoy that rank, then here stands his Champion! And I say that they are a liar and a traitor, and I will happily accept any challenge and will fight whenever summoned.”

It was nearly poetic, if not a bit overwrought. They were hardly at the point where trial by combat should be instated. But if left ceremonial, then that was fine. And if nothing else, he could claim ignorance to it.

When he arrived at the banquet, held in that same pavilion but reorganized, it was to the introduction that made his chest swell and made him smile to himself as the doors were opened and the hundreds of guests all bowed or curtsied before him. “Presenting His Imperial Majesty Emperor Brendol Hux Junior!”

_What a title!_ came the whisper.

_Not now, Quen Tor,_ he replied, letting himself be wheeled to his place at the high table, where his parents sat on either side of him, and from where he could see and be seen. Only then did everyone sit, and only then did the banquet begin.

There were dozens of toasts made by dozens of representatives, by his father, by each member of High Command, the Count of Sargan made one that went on far too long, and they were all made with the ice wine that he so enjoyed. It didn’t escape his notice that the Knights, all of whom had never drunk alcohol for the bans of addictive substances, nearly spat out their first sips for the taste and instead drank water, despite the bad luck toasting with water usually represented.

When the meal itself began, the room filled with conversation, but underneath it there was music, filling in the spaces of silence. Many approached him and spoke in largely ceremonial words, before retreating to their seats. Most notably the Count Victgilsus Toggen of Sargan with his family, standing silently before him now that he outranked them. It was the smallest of pleasures to make them wait after so long of _them_ making _him_ wait, but eventually he did say, “I am pleased you accepted our invitation.”

“We were honored to be invited,” said Count Toggen. “Hedwig especially insisted that we come.”

“Truth be told, your Imperial Majesty, but we were quite relieved to hear the news of your ascension,” Countess Toggen told him. “The civil war seemed quite a nasty business, and Sargan has always leaned towards monarchy in terms of forms of governance.”

“Clearly so,” he said, and nodded to them as they took their leave.

“You do quite well with them,” commented his mother.

“I have dealt with the Count of Sargan multiple times, Mother.”

“I mean more generally. You do well as Emperor. I don’t think being General was ever _refined_ enough for you.” His father looked like he wanted to say something, but he was interrupted by another representative approaching.

In between, Hux glanced about the room, mildly curious as to where Organa had ended up. Most of the foreign guests were seated together, and all far away from the high table. He finally caught on her, dressed in a fine charcoal grey dress, her scoundrel husband next to her neither of them looking happy. No, they were oscillating between looking nearly furious and engulfed in longing as they looked towards where the Knights were seated, talking among themselves. Kylo was doing a magnificent job of not acknowledging them, and Hux tried to push that feeling of pride towards the man, who did glance up at him and smile.

After dinner came the presentation of gifts, because so many had brought them unprompted, and so a hasty ceremony had been put into place. There were elaborate jeweled necklaces that he had very little intention of wearing, crowns made of silk, and more than half were presenting him with ancient texts things that spoke to his academic nature and those he appreciated. And then Dr. Riil approached and had nothing in her hands as she said in that thin voice he remembered so well from their many discussions, “Your Imperial Majesty, I speak not for myself but for all of Landan University. We have agreed to bestow upon you a doctorate of ancient history, should you wish to accept it.”

“I would be honored to, Doctor, and I am honored you think me worthy of it,” he said.

“I have students who have less interest than you do, your imperial majesty.” But she touched her brow and cast her hand in his direction, and Hux smiled to receive that ancient custom.

And so it continued, until the foreign guests approached. Count Toggen remained stubbornly silent until he was acknowledged, and then presented a gift of Talen Ore. Quietly too, underneath the ceremony, there was a small written promise that they could come collect the dead from the shot down ships, something that couldn’t be said at this joyous occasion. Sargan wanted to clear its skies of death, apparently.

Hux was almost certain that no one from the Republic would come present him with a gift, but despite it all, the Chancellor approached, Suleyman Kyarum, with a strange carrier in his hand. “It is tradition, on Hosnian Prime, that when one is promoted, to give gifts, same as anywhere,” he said. “But when one ascends to a height where they might make enemies, then it is tradition to give to them a true companion, for they become harder and harder to find. And so to you, I present a true companion.” And the carrier was opened and a small orange cat was revealed, probably not long since separated from its mother. “She will not ask of you anything but food and affection, and will stay with you her whole life without expectation.”

Most gifts he had passed aside, receiving them before having them brought away, but when the kitten was settled into his arms, it squeaked out a meow before settling in the crook of his arm, tiny claws kneading at his sleeve, and he held up a hand to keep it with him. “I thank you, Chancellor Kyarum,” he said.

Organa did not present him with a gift, nor did her husband, but he had expected that.

The kitten stayed in the crook of his arm as dinner was cleared and the ball was to begin. He had exhausted all his ability to stand, and so he was let to sit and watch, which suited him just fine. Instead, he stroked at the kitten and listened to it purr and listened as the music and dancing began.

_Why do you all know the same dances?_ Kylo asked him, sliding into his head.

_There’s an old saying, Kylo. “Never give a sword to a man who cannot dance.” So we all learn social dancing._

_It looks awful._

_I expect you don’t do it in the Republic, but it was performed by the upper echelons of the Old Empire’s society, we emulated it and transformed it when we left._

_Three of us were born in the Order, surely you know that._

_Tem mentioned it, yes. Also, three of you will point down when talking about moons while four of you point up. It rather reveals how you view reality._

_Tem, Penninah, and Khee. They all know these dances too._

_I don’t enjoy them much myself, but I know them. My mother adores them, I’m glad I’m invalided out for these. You know, you look very handsome._

A pleased pulse of emotion wafted towards him, and Kylo turned back to conversation with his Knights, leaving Hux be. Shara approached with perhaps too much caution, and stumbled through what the correct address was, before finally asking, “Do you know what you’re going to name her?”

“I don’t, yet. Do you want to hold her?” he replied, fairly certain he remembered that Shara had loved animals, and was glad to have remembered correctly when the woman took the cat in arms and cooed over her a long moment.

“She’s so precious. Oh, I don’t envy your rank but I do envy you this little girl.”

“I’m afraid it’s rather in poor form to give away a coronation gift.” Finally the kitten was passed back to him and settled happily into the crook of his arm again and Shara retreated, asked to dance by none other than Representative Shunga, joining the set and sliding into the new dance.

He looked across the room and saw that in the midst of the mingling and chatting and dancing, Organa and Solo were starting to make their way towards the Knights. But it seemed Quen Tor noticed that too, for the way they moved rather en masse over to him. One couldn’t interrupt a conversation with the recently coronated emperor, after all.

“We would have given you gifts, but we don’t have much more that we haven’t already given you,” Tem informed Hux. “You own our loyalties and our hearts, though a bit differently in Kylo’s case.”

“Tem,” the man in question said, giving his brother a flat look.

“We do have one other thing we could give you,” said Penninah. “But it’s still locked up on the Finalizer, and we didn’t want to involve more people in it.”

“What is it?” asked Hux.

“The mark of our order,” said Kylo. “I must have mentioned it to you before. But we don’t have an order, as such, not anymore. So we thought we might give it to you.”

“It’s the helmet of Darth Vader, salvaged from where his pyre had burned,” said Nova. “Kylo was custodian of it, of course, but it was salvaged from the caves same as everything.”

Hux nodded slowly, and said, “Ancestor Veneration. That’s the mark of dozens of religions and cultures.”

“Do you like how my dress turned out?” Khee asked suddenly, twisting her hips to make the fringe swirl about her. “I think it turned out perfectly, Madam Girika said so too.”

“It looks lovely,” Hux agreed, reeling a bit from the sudden change in topic. “I’m glad you like it.”

“It’s so soft but it moves so much, it feels just right.”

“My parents are hovering too near,” Kylo groused. “And we can’t keep talking to you long.”

_The next song will be slow. It won’t be humiliating to dance it,_ offered Quen Tor. _If we get another dancer, we could be a set in ourselves, and they couldn’t talk to you then._

“Half of us don’t know the dance,” reminded Obsi.

“They aren’t that hard,” assured Penninah. “You can come into my mind and learn them, if you want.”

“My mother is terribly fond of dancing, if you need an eighth,” added Hux. As one, they moved to where his mother was talking to someone, and stood like shadows at her back until she turned and greeted them with a smile.

Every eye in the whole pavilion was latched onto them during the next dance, slow and stately as it was. Half of them were wildly unfamiliar with the dance, but they were stumbling their way through it best they could. Khee seemed distracted by her own gown, and as the dance continued, Penninah seemed to enjoy it more and more, a smile growing on her solemn face until she was outright grinning, adding spins where they weren’t meant to be.

“Those Knights certainly are different than how I remember,” offered Professor Mabun, very suddenly at his side. “Before, they always seemed…well, like mystics at best.”

“That they were,” agreed Hux. “They were rather pounded into that mould, they’ve been in recovery, both physically and psychologically, and I do believe we’re approaching who they are without the abuse.”

“Are they the ones you carry in your march, then?”

“I thought the Empress symbolized the _country,_ Professor.” Professor Mabun smiled.

“I have missed speaking with you, your Imperial Majesty. I may not have a doctorate to offer you like Dr. Riil did, but is it too far out of possibility to wonder if I might enjoy our conversations again?”

“I do not know how much time I will have, given the nature of building an Empire, but I do intent to see if I can’t continue my studies, informal as they are.”

As the night progressed, Penninah was more often than not dancing now, looking delighted as whichever of her siblings she could get to dance with her followed her best they could. She looked as happy to be dancing as Khee looked with her gown, and Hux had a feeling that the woman had found something that made her happy.

The kitten was eventually brought away as the evening grew darker, and it was with a grand toast that they all turned their heads up and watched the fireworks begin. Bursts of blue, red, and green streaked across the skies, and there were matching displays all across the Empire. When it came to an end, with a massive display of dozens firing off all at once, sparkling and popping, everyone applauded, and the dancing started again, now in partner dances that Penninah dragged Obsi into dancing with her for, while Mathilde coaxed his father into joining her. Kylo, however, was nowhere to be seen, and for that matter neither were his parents.

_They’ve gone onto one of the terraces,_ came Nova’s voice. _We’re worried for him, but he insisted we leave him be. But he didn’t tell you, you should go._

_This party is rather in my honor…_

_Lie and say you need some air, something. Please, you don’t know, he still loves his parents but they think he’s still Ben, it hurts him so much. Please._

From Nova, that was rather remarkable, and so Hux did so, demurring at every turn and just needing some air, really he’d be back soon, and so on. An Emperor could not slip away unnoticed, after all.

It was true, out on one of the terraces, the sounds of the party inside and the public celebrations outside wafting in, there were the three of them, each tense and looking their own brand of desperate. “No, please, go ahead,” Kylo was saying. “I’d very much like to hear _what_ you thought was going to tempt me back.”

“Ben, we’re your _family,_ ” insisted Solo.

“Really? Because I have six siblings in there and none of them insist on calling me the wrong name.”

“You left because of Snoke,” Organa was saying. “Now that he’s dead–”

“Now that he’s dead I’m not in chronic pain? Yes. And you didn’t do that. And I didn’t leave because of Snoke. I left to _join_ him because I woke up one day and everything he had been telling me my whole life was true. Ask Luke Skywalker about the time he ignited his lightsaber above a sleeping padawan’s bed.”

“He wasn’t actually going to kill you!”

“Is that what you would have told me had I gone back to you? Really? You would have looked your son in the eye and told him that having his uncle _draw a weapon against him_ isn’t something he should feel betrayed about?”

“Is everything quite alright?” asked Hux, all three turning.

“Everything’s fine, Bren, you can go back inside.”

“ _Bren?_ ” echoed Solo.

“Really? Because it hardly _sounded_ fine,” Hux said, ignoring Solo.

“It’s about as fine as it’s going to get,” said Kylo.

“Well, that’s hardly optimistic.”

“And when have _you_ ever been an optimist?”

“Fair enough. General Organa, Mr. Solo, may I suggest that you not antagonize my other guests? Hardly bodes well for peace, does it?”

“Your… _imperial majesty,_ ” said Organa, clearly choking on the address, “I don’t know if you were made aware–”

“That you still consider yourself parents to Ben? Yes, I know. But to my knowledge, Ben has been dead for years.” He glanced towards Kylo, who had his mouth in a grim line, and said, “But you do still have a son, though you seem quite set on treating him poorly.” It was difficult to feel powerful before these two figures who nearly had mythical status even in his Empire, especially when confined to a wheelchair, but he wore an imperial crown and a chain of his nation about his shoulders and that bolstered him to interrupt when both made to speak. “Your son Kylo still considers you to be his mother and father. And considering that every other one of his siblings barely remembers what their own parents’ faces look like for all that they rejected them in favor of Snoke, that is not something to throw away. I invited you here to encourage peace between our nations, and I swore to keep you away from him because he knew you would do exactly what you’re doing now, insist that he is a boy who died a long time ago and refuse to listen when he makes his own choices. So I ask that you refrain from doing so. Kylo?”

The two returned inside together, where Hux was immediately pulled into conversation with one of the many guests, and Kylo hovered nearby him. Penninah, swirling in a waltz too elaborate for the actual dance, sent him a wave of gratitude, and tugged Kylo away to join her for the next partner dance, keeping him well away from his parents.

“Did you say something to General Organa?” asked his mother, touching his shoulder and bending close. “I was just speaking to her and her husband with your father, and they seemed rather put out. Worse than before, even.”

“I may have,” he allowed. “Has Kylo spoken to you about them?”

“Ah,” she said, nodding slowly. “So it’s about parentage.”

“They insisted he was the boy who died years ago, insisted that he come home because of blood.”

“And you told them off?”

“Perhaps a bit.”

“Oh Brendol Darling, and you always try to claim you aren’t subject to sentiment.”

“I did start a war over him, I think I’ve long since proven sentimentality to myself. It is odd, given that Kylo is inclined towards Ancestor Veneration, that he should so disregard his living relatives.”

“There’s a river valley filled with war between them, darling, it’s going to take longer than a year without Snoke poisoning the water before they can start to cross it. It’s admirable, that they’re trying to bring home a lost son. But their son isn’t exactly lost, is he? He’s found family and he’s found you, and I don’t imagine he wants to risk losing that.” She patted his shoulder and said, “We’ll see how things stand in another year or two, perhaps repairs can be begun then. Perhaps in time for his own coronation.”

“Mother.” But she just smiled, touched his cheek a moment and slid off into the party once more.

 

* * *

 

The celebration ended when he took his leave, every attending member bowing or curtsying as he left, and that night he was to lodge in the Hotel Condott, in the finest room they had. Everyone who worked there was trembling to accommodate whatever he wanted, but he sent them all away in favor of devesting himself of crown and chain, which were stored away, and when he was in bed attendants and all left, leaving him to read, the little kitten Chancellor Kyarum had given him curled into a ball on his lap and purring happily a while before falling asleep.

He remembered that nanny droid, years past, and how it had tried to approximate this purring, and thought to himself that the real thing was so much better.

He was reading of the gifted texts, some record from a people he didn’t recognize, when came a brush against his mind, a warning that Kylo was coming to visit. He didn’t startle or reach for any weapons, then, when the door opened to reveal his impossible knight, still dressed in his handsome suit. “Thank you,” he said without preamble. “For what you said to my parents. They…they don’t listen to me. They think I’m still just copying what Snoke told me, but you killed him, so they know that you at least aren’t.”

“Come, join me,” said Bren, gesturing to the bed beside him. The cat seemed unhappy when everything started moving, but refused to surrender her spot, settling down almost aggressively back into his lap.

“You seemed quite taken with her, when Kyarum gave her to you,” commented Kylo, pressed against Bren’s side.

“It’s hard not to be. I still don’t know what name to give her.” He watched as Kylo hesitantly stroked her, and said, “I’m sorry that your parents were trying to get you to go with them.”

“It’s not that that I don’t like. It’s that they won’t…it’s been years. I’m not Ben. Ben did calligraphy because his uncle and master told him to. Ben had nightmares because Snoke was in his head. Ben was all sorts of things. I don’t have nightmares anymore because Snoke is dead. They’ll probably come back at some point, but for now they’re gone. Too much time has passed and I cannot ever go back to being him.”

“It’s a good thing you won’t have to be, then. It’s not as though I’ve invited them to live here, after all. They’ll have to go back to the New Republic soon enough, and you will stay here. And so far I haven’t heard a word about inviting them back.”

Kylo calmed at that, and settled against him before he said, “I wish I could spend the night.”

“In theory you could. It would be a bad idea, though, you are right about that. Give the empire at least a year to settle down, and then we can start publicly courting.”

“A whole year?”

“Well I don’t intend to stop _privately_ courting you, if that’s what that question means.” Kylo chuckled and pressed a long kiss to his hair.

“What are you reading?”

“One of the gifts given to me, an old biography of a queen. Millicent of Melitene.”

“Why give it to you?”

“Her country was exceedingly war torn, is what I’ve found out so far, I feel they might have been trying to make a statement. Her grandfather King Khoril the Magnificent was killed in battle by a man called Thoros, and then her mother Morphia died under very suspicious circumstances. Millicent herself married a warrior prince called Fulk to secure her lands for her, and now there’s all sorts of palace intrigue. I assume she survives, this biography continues a long way yet. She does seem like a particularly upright woman, though. Apparently once things calm down she becomes a patroness of the arts.”

“Much like you.”

“Has Khee had a vision?”

“No, but I like to think I know you by now. Once peace is brokered and the Empire is stable enough, you and this Queen Millicent will have much in common.” He gathered the kitten in his hands, ignoring its mewl of protest and said, “That should be this cat’s name. Let her be Millicent, so you always remember that there’s something beyond war.”

“And you have found that, I suppose?” asked Bren, taking back the cat and letting her stalk away, put out at being so moved about and choosing to curl up on a cushioned chair in the corner of the room.

In answer, Kylo just leaned close and gave him a long, lingering kiss before pressing their foreheads together and whispering, “Tell me, where is the road I can call my own? That I left, that I lost so long ago? All these years I have wandered, oh when will I know there’s a way, there’s a road that will lead me home.”

It was spoken with all the cadences of a poem, and Bren nearly asked after it, but Kylo gave him another kiss, and spoke in his mind, that they did not need to break the kiss. _After wind, after rain, when the dark is done. As I wake from a dream in the gold of day, through the air there’s a calling from far away, there’s a voice I can hear that will lead me home. “Rise up, follow me, come away,” is the call. “With love in your heart as the only sound. There is no such beauty as where you belong. Rise up, follow me, I will lead you home.”_

“What is that?” Bren whispered when they separated.

“I wrote that. I told you, Ben did calligraphy, he spent a lot of time working with words. And with your mother telling me to write to get the thoughts out of my head…It’s my coronation gift to you, that poem. It was written for you. Yours was the first voice I heard when my senses were returned to me, you called me home.”

There was no response to that but to kiss his impossible, beloved Knight again. And when they finally separated, he said, “You’ve convinced me, I’ll call the cat Millicent.”

“Yes, _that’s_ what I wrote the poem for.”

There was, of course, the business of building an empire to be done. But that night, when they could distantly hear the public celebrations raging onwards, with just the two of them, they celebrated themselves, sharing breath and countless kisses. Everything else could fade away, just for now. The Empire, the tension Kylo had with his parents, the frowns and pressure Bren’s own father pushed onto his mother for being uncertain of his place, whether or not the civil war was declared done. For now it was the two of them, the biography of Queen Millicent set aside to celebrate Bren’s ascension to an office equal or above hers, a celebration not of regalia and spectacle, but of flesh and breath.

And it was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, at the end. It was always going to end here, after the coronation, but what a ride it's been! There were times I didn't think I'd ever finish, that this would sit unresolved like every other multi-chapter story I've tried to write, but here we are and I've proven myself wrong. Thanks so much for all the reviews and kudos, and who knows? Maybe we'll come back to this universe.
> 
> Kylo's poem is entirely lifted from Stephen Paulus' magnificent piece ["The Road Home."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LbwhSP3ZIq4) (Rest in Peace, Stephen, you were always so nice)
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://starkilleraflame.tumblr.com/)


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